The Quadrangle
by TBIMH
Summary: Season 1 of Dallas TNT ends with Elena breaking her engagement to JoRo & getting re-engaged to Christopher. Many felt JoRo & Elena should stay together. This story is how that could come about, and what the future would hold for JoRo/E, E/C, & C/R. (If you like C/E stories, or if you love to hate C/E, you may like this.)I do not own Dallas TNT or the character
1. Lucky Us (Chapter 1)

Chapter 1

**Lucky Us **  
(Circa 2024)

_Damn it's dark tonight_, he thought stepping onto his front porch. It took multiple tries, but eventually he was able to get the key in the lock to open the front door, and then flipped on the foyer lights. The noise must have awoken her, because she was on her way down the steps in one of her La Perla nightgowns. Not one of the short sexy ones; the blue one he had seen in the drawer, but never on her. He noted how beautiful she looked. Staring at her long tan legs, he muttered, "I am one lucky man," and attempted to stand tall and appear sober.

"Hey, Sexy," he drawled as she approached him.

"Hey, yourself. Now turn and go," she stated with little emotion.

"Elena," he whined.

"You know the rule, John Ross—no one comes home drunk. I don't come home drunk, you don't come home drunk. It's that simple," she stated as she had time and again. Sliding her hand on to his back, she steered him back across the marble floor.

Glancing through the side light, she asked, "Where's your car?"

"I took a cab," he proudly answered.

Reaching into his pocket, she pulled out his cell phone and redialed the last number. "Hi. One of your drivers just dropped off someone at Southfork ranch. Please have them turn around and come back," she requested before putting the phone back in her husband's pocket.

"Just let me say goodnight to the kids," he said, taking a few steps toward the stairs.

"Lucky for them, they are sound asleep, so they don't have to see their father in this condition," she stated, stopping him in his tracks. "Isn't that why you made the rule in the first place? So our kids wouldn't have to witness what you…"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, but…" he childishly protested.

"It's your rule. Don't get mad at me every time it comes back to bite you in the ass," she replied while opening up the front door.

She rubbed his back soothingly. "Go sleep it off at the condo and come home tomorrow, Babe," she gently advised, guiding him again to the door.

When he turned around, she put her arm up and boxed him in the doorway. He looked around at his house, then down at his wife. He still found her sexy, even when annoyed.

_Maybe more so when annoyed,_ he mused. He studied her pretty face, gazed deep into those dark brown eyes of hers, and then the words just spilled out.

"You're sleeping with him again, aren't you?" he calmly asked.

She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts before speaking. For the first time, her exasperation came through in her voice. "What are you? Sixteen? Get over it already. We were kids."

That smug grin of his, spread across his face. "I can always tell. You know I can."

Shaking her head, she dismissed his comment.

He took a few moments to glance about, taking in all he could from his limited vantage point: his black teak desk in the office, the hallway to the kitchen, the banister with the graceful curve. With a knowing smile, he nodded toward the top of the staircase.

"He's here, isn't he?" It was a statement more than a question.

"Paranoid, too? What were smoking along with that bottle of Balcones you put down?" she brusquely asked.

"Not paranoid, just observant," he confidently explained. He stared eerily at her to the point that she turned away and fixed her eyes on a silver vein in the floor. When she looked back up, he smirked at her.

"Is he in the guest room, or do you spread your legs for him in _our _bed?"

She slapped him hard across the mouth, but that smirk managed to stay on his lips. "The only one here is your cab driver. Now go," she told him, giving him a slight shove on to the front porch.

Elena walked back upstairs upset, angry and exhausted. _How has it come to this? When did I become his caretaker and stop being his wife and lover? Where are we heading, and how is it all going to end?_ she wondered, as she had so many times before. After all these years, however, she still did not have the answers and was tired of trying to find them.

The soft silk sheets were calming to her as she laid back down with a heavy heart. She stared up at the ceiling in the very dimly lit bedroom.

"How did he know?" Christopher asked, sliding closer to her.

"I don't know, but he always does," she quietly answered.

Turning to face him, she ran her fingers through the grey hairs starting to show up at his temples, and continued. "It's odd because he only senses it when he's so drunk that he has blacked out."

He pulls her close, and she lays her head on his bare chest.

"Lucky for us, when he sobers up tomorrow, he won't even remember coming here," she explained sadly.

Stroking her hair, Christopher let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, lucky us."

Copyright 2012 tbimh

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	2. He's Not A Phoenix (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2

**He's Not A Phoenix**

It was chilly walking the few hundred yards from the ranch house, through the stand of trees and back home, but Christopher purposely had not worn a jacket; it was one less thing to worry about leaving behind. After turning off the alarm, he opened the veranda doors. Warmth surrounded him and the faint scent of vanilla filled the air. _Home, sweet home_, he thought with a heavy mind. The huge antique clock ticked away in the quiet. He checked his watch-a little after five. He had not slept in over 24 hours, and was exhausted.

Prior to a long day at work yesterday, he awoke early from one of the guilty dreams, the one where he kisses her in the office. In the dream, it is the most normal thing in the world—Elena is leaving, so he walks her to the front doors and gives her a quick kiss good-bye. The office goes silent. He looks around to see what happened. Is the receptionist staring at them? Why is John Ross giving him that look? Oh, shit! He woke with a start.

Never falling back to sleep, he started his day before dawn and was already behind his desk at 6 AM.

Last night was planned, albeit not well thought out, a few days before. Rebecca had taken their kids to visit with her friend who had moved to Palm Beach last year. The two families would go down to the Keys, travel back up to Naples, and before leaving Florida, make the obligatory stop in Orlando. Thursday was poker night at the club. John Ross always drank too much playing cards, so he always spent the night at their condo downtown. It still seemed like a bad idea, but Elena assured him it was safe. He had not said no to her in three decades, why would he start now?

They took all the precautions. Every light at her house, inside and out, was off except for one dim bulb in the light fixture on the front porch. Before leaving his house, he flipped off the breakers for both the house lights and the outdoor lighting. No point taking a chance there was a switch linked to a timer somewhere. The north side of the ranch between their homes was pitch black. Her kids were all sound asleep; each bedroom equipped with a small door alarm that chimed when the door opened. He would repeatedly check the lock on the door.

Even so, tonight was stupid, reckless, and far beyond disrespectful—three things they agreed not to be. He just missed her so much and wanted to hold her close, run his fingers through her hair, see her lips wet from his kiss. Therefore, under the cover of nightfall, he walked out of the back of his house, and took the path that led through the trees over to the ranch property. A full moon would have been nice to light his way, but a thin waning crescent was all there was. The crunching of the leaves under foot was deafening in the dead silence out on the ranch. It was interesting to him that every creature there slept almost the exact same hours. The cattle, horses, Elena's guinea keets, and the people, all were awake with the sun and asleep with the stars. Their internal clocks in sync with each other. Well, not tonight, but usually.

It was after midnight when he slipped in the back door, and found her asleep on the couch in the family room. For a long while, he happily sat on the floor beside her. He could not really see her in the darkness, but could hear the long restful breaths she took. Had he touched her, she would have awoken, so he just sat there enjoying what should have been, until she woke up on her own.

The constriction of his chest when John Ross' key turned in the lock, had to have been a slight heart attack. In moments, he was up, dressed and on the backside of the house. The nervous sweat poured off him and his pulse raced as he debated if he could still jump from the bathroom as he had as a kid. Sixteen was a long time ago. The window seemed much higher now, and he was not confident that his joints could take the impact. When he overheard Elena say, "Now go," and then the door closed, relief washed over him. The sweat dried quickly leaving his skin cold.

Leaving then would have been the logical thing to do, but there were still two hours left on their clock, and he did not have a clue when he would see her again. Putting common sense aside, he crawled back into their warm bed and waited for her.

Now that he was home and his first meeting of the day was still several hours away, sleep seemed like a good idea. He laid on the sofa there in the rec room. He would never get into the bed he shared with his wife straight from leaving _her_.

_Do you think that makes you a prince? Does that miniscule gesture within a sea of adulterous acts ease your conscience? _The questions came into his head. "No," he answered back quietly. More were going to come and race through his mind one after the other, and they were not going to stop as long as his eyes were closed; they never did.

_Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting those who love you? Why don't you stop? Why do you love her so much? Why do you put your family at risk when you know what he'll do when he finds out? Why can't you say no? Why Why Why? _

He had to shut that down. Four mornings in a row was enough; he could not go through it again. _Please, not this morning_, he pleaded. All he wanted was to lie there and think about her. Aside from the part where John Ross showed up, they had just shared a wonderful night.

He and Elena had reached the point where just being together was enough. They did not even have to make love—although tonight they had. The feel of her body snuggled up next to him, his arms protectively wrapped around her, talking about everything and nothing for hours; just being an old married couple. He loved it. Except, they were not an old married couple. They were a middle-aged adulterous couple.

Sitting up on the couch, he stared in the direction of the clock and listened to the minutes tick by. _How did Christopher and Elena-first loves, best friends, and soul mates-end up here_? he wondered. Thinking back, he recalls the afternoon they spent in that Fort Worth hotel room. That was the day it became evident what they were doing, and where it was leading. It was about 6 years ago, but he remembers it like it was yesterday. He felt confused and angry with her, and their situation. Yet he could not leave until he knew what was waiting for them on the other side of the door, assuming it was going to be either two messy divorces or one big break-up. Who would have thought there could even be a third choice? Not him.

She told him she was still in love with him, she wished she had married him, she had to have him-everything he wanted to hear, and it overshadowed what he did not want to hear. Those last moments together, he felt so much love from her and for her, that what they were doing could not possibly be wrong. The second the door closed behind him, he hated himself because he knew it was.

"I should have married _you_, Christopher. I should have trusted you; had faith in the amazing amount of confidence you showed that day. For several years, I thought I had made the right decision, and by the time I realized I hadn't, John Ross and I had three kids. I didn't want to give my children a repeat of their father's childhood. Now, I can't leave him. I won't leave him. He's good to me, and he loves me," Elena explained to him.

"And you?" he asked.

"I love him, too."

"Then what are we doing here, Elena?" he snapped at her, getting irritated.

"He's a hard man to love. These days I have to overlook a lot to keep loving him," she honestly told him.

"You shouldn't have to."

"I do have to."

The contradicting statements were annoying him. "We can't keep doing this. Every time we're together, we say 'no more,' and then months later there is always more. We have to either end this," he motioned between the two of them, "or end that," motioning toward the door. "Which is it going to be?"

Calmly and assertively, she answered. "I'm not leaving him."

He sighed. Ultimatums never did work with her. "I gotta go."

"Christopher, don't."

"Why not?" His voice started to grow loud, and she sensed his irritation with her turning into anger.

"If you're not going to leave, then continuing this, whatever the hell _this_ is that we do, is pointless. What are we going to do, have an affair for the rest of our lives? That's unconscionable. What we have already done is unconscionable. You tell me you love me, and, God knows, I love you. I will leave her, but I am not walking out on my kids to continue sneaking around with you. I'm done with this, Elena. All of it." He walked to the door and undid the top lock.

If he walked out now, she knew their relationship, which had spanned her lifetime, would cease. Panic rose inside of her—it was imperative that Christopher be a part of her world. During the periods of their life when they were not lovers, they were still the best of friends. Even her husband had to learn to accept that. Every secret she ever kept, every thought she ever had, Christopher knew and he loved her anyway. John Ross loved the idea of her more than who she was. When he looked at her, he saw the image he wanted to see-the picture perfect wife and mother, ideal business partner, and a woman incapable of wrongdoing. She could have stabbed his father and he would have blamed JR for getting in the way of the knife.

Christopher sees her for who she really is. She is a woman with insecurities and faults, who is intimidated easily. A business partner who contributes a great deal, but also gets in over her head, has made bad decisions, and does not always admit she is wrong. Christopher is not afraid to tell her she is all of these, nor does he care. When he looks at her, he sees flaws and contradictions, and loves her not in spite of those, but because of them. She "overwhelms him," as he explains it. Once had, that deep of an acceptance could not be lived without.

Leaving this room now would bring that to a crashing halt. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt her heart beat faster and faster. She had to stop him from opening that door.

"Don't open that door!" she ordered him when she saw his hand on the knob. "Christopher, do...not…open…that…door." His hand went down to his side.

She let go of a breath she did not realize she was holding. "Won't you, please, talk to me?" she pleaded.

Without turning toward her, he told her there was nothing left to say.

Elena walked up behind him, put her arms around his waist and leaned into his back. "There is a lot left to say. Sit with me. Please?" she requested.

He never could say no to her. He turned in her embrace, but did not move to hold her. She took his hand to lead him back into the room. "Thank you."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked up at her. "Elena, I'm stuck. I don't know what else to do. As bad as I feel about this, this thing we're doing, it's nothing compared to how morally reprehensible I find leaving my kids after all I have been through because my mother left me. Never would I have believed I could do the same to my children, but I am willing to, just to be with you—to be _married_ to you. I don't know how to prove my love to you any more than that."

She knelt on the floor beside him, giving him a perplexed look. "Christopher, you don't need to prove your love to me. I _know_ you love me, and I know I love you. Don't ever doubt that.

"The reason I won't leave has nothing to do with how much you love me or I love you, or even how much I love him. It has everything to do with how much I love Suzannah, Johnny and Seth."

Elena went on to explain why her three kids trumped everyone else. "When I had my babies, I took on the responsibility of caring for them, giving them a good home and two good parents. If I leave, that will fall apart, because John Ross will fall apart. I will not allow my children to have a drunk for a father, or put them in the position to have to take care of him, or make them watch while he drinks himself to death.

"He's not like you, Christopher. He's fragile. If he ever breaks, he will shatter. Had it been John Ross who went through the emotional turmoil you did years ago, he wouldn't be here today."

Christopher looked away, as being reminded of his years in the dark abyss made him uncomfortable.

Rubbing his arm softly, she apologized. "I'm sorry, Honey. I know you don't like to talk about it, but it's to make the point that had he ever experienced half the trauma you did, he would have, in the words of that old Allison Krause song, 'put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger.' John Ross never would have come out of it at all, let alone like you did-stronger and more secure than ever. _He's_ not a phoenix.

"Through no fault of your own, your world was burned down around you by those you loved and trusted. Yet, you found strength from within, and were able to bring yourself up out of the ashes. Not many people can do that. Most would wallow in the soot of their own self-pity, becoming bitter, cruel, or even evil. John Ross is one of those people, and I cannot let the father of my children become such a man. I cannot let him turn into JR."

Moving back on the bed, he leaned his head on the headboard, staring out at nothing. Elena sat down next to him and put her hand on his thigh before she continued.

"He wasn't always like this. His dad's death really did him in. I don't know why. You'd think after the old bastard died that John Ross would finally be able to live his life and stop needing to prove himself to daddy. Somehow, it was the opposite. Now he has more than ever to prove to someone who can never acknowledge it.

"JR was quite the man about town when he ran Ewing Oil, but his legendary status did John Ross no favors. No matter what he does, he never feels it lives up to what people expect from him.

"On his deathbed, JR finally told John Ross all the things he had always wanted to hear, which was wonderful and gave him peace, but it was short lived. He started drinking a lot more after that. Although he's usually an easy going drunk, he has his moments. I don't know where they come from or how to predict them, but he gets erratic and mean.

"At work, he's fine, but it's no secret that he doesn't always return after lunch. At home, we made rules that we both abide by: very little alcohol is brought into the house, no more than 2 drinks in the evening, and neither of us can come home after having one too many. It's not ideal, but I hope it prevents our kids from remembering him the way he remembers Sue Ellen—staggering around or passed out.

"Can you understand why I can't leave? Do you see why I have to stay?" she implored, desperately needing to know he understood.

Although he felt there were other ways to handle the situation, Christopher understood how she drew such a conclusion. Elena wanted her kids to have a father. A man to adore them as her father had her for those short nine years. A heroic figure in their life to love and believe in. Sacrifices had to be made for that to happen, and she was willing to be the one to make them. It made perfect sense to him.

Christopher wanted his kids to have a mother. A woman who loved them more than life itself, who would nurture and adore them. An affectionate and honorable caregiver, to whom they could go for understanding and unconditional acceptance. A mother who would never leave.

The secrets kept, the lies and fabrications told were necessary to provide such. He sacrificed honesty to his children for them to have the mother they deserved. It made perfect sense back when the decision was made to do so, and it still did.

But he should not have to sacrifice _her_. He would give up anything, and risk everything to again have Elena as his…and his alone. Their arrangement brought him as close to that outcome as possible. A few times a year behind a locked door, she was all his. Those were always the most treasured hours of his day, and were always followed by the most agonizing. It was a high price to pay…and worth every drop of self-loathing it cost.

As time went on, they settled into their roles in the relationship, set up rules, broke it off, started back up, and learned to compartmentalize "them" inside of the other life they led. Tolerating long gaps between clandestine meetings, and accepting their second-rate status, was difficult. In the beginning, encounters were often wrought with an exchange of strong words, followed by tears, and ended with declarations of love and commitment. Jealousy and possessiveness could not be expressed outside the room, and wasted precious moments when expressed inside the room. Eventually, it was repressed. Walking out the door never became easy, but was necessary. They each had a life to live and responsibilities to fulfill, including those of being a spouse. Such a role entitled John Ross and Rebecca to be loved, and loved they were…as much as was possible from one giving only a part of them self.

Copyright 2012 tbimh

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	3. Crash and Burn (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3

**Crash and Burn**

Cold air swirled into the family room as she opened the back door for him. They had said their good-byes upstairs; now it was just a touch of her cheek and he was gone into the darkness. She stared through the french doors for a few minutes, but never saw him after the first three steps.

The digital clock on the television reflected in the glass. A little before five. In an hour and a half, she would need to wake the kids for school. She walked back upstairs to strip the sheets from the bed and get them in the washer.

Still warm from them, the bed linens were too tempting. She laid down, wrapped them around herself, and put her head on his pillow; that familiar scent all around her. While they were in high school, Calvin Klein introduced his first unisex fragrance, CK One. She gave him a bottle for Christmas that year, and it became "theirs." Now she keeps a small atomizer in the back of her lingerie drawer and wears it only when they are together, as she did tonight. The light pure scent always takes her back to a simpler time, a time when love made her world go 'round.

Her teenage years were a series of nights spent sneaking out late just to kiss goodnight one more time, and then creeping back into the house before her mother knew she was gone. Countless hours spent lying on a blanket under the trees in that secluded part of the ranch where there were no buildings, no cattle, nothing accept for them. There were Friday night football games followed by keg parties down by the creek. Christopher, with his arm around her waist, making her feel comfortable and safe. Private school girls were so bitchy and intimidating to her, but not when Christopher was there. The way he adoringly looked at her, stripped away her insecurities.

All there was to life was getting good grades and loving Christopher. What could be easier? What could be better? Certainly not financial reports, dividend statements, regret, deceit and guilt. That is what most of her life consisted of now.

_Marilena Ramos Ewing, you stupid worthless tramp, _she scolded herself_. The first man in your life steals your heart, giving you his in return, and you walk out on him…twice. The only other man in your life puts you on a pedestal and lays the world at your feet, and you cheat on him. What the hell is the matter with you?_

More questions followed._ How could I have been so narrow-minded back then? Did I doubt Christopher or myself? Why would I not hear what he was saying? _

_You can forever blame Rebecca for her part, but not for everything. That fateful decision was your doing,_ finally acknowledging the role she played in her own life.

It had been over a decade, but she could still feel the shame and panic from when she learned she was pregnant. Scared and desperate, she sat in her car, tears streaming down her face, castigating herself. _Engaged to one man while pregnant by his cousin—how disgraceful! Thank God, your father's dead so he doesn't have to see what a whore his 'Bebe Marilita' turned out to be._

_Now what_? _Have the most honorable man I know marry a slut and shoulder the responsibility of someone else's child? Or go to the man who put me here in the first place?_ she asked herself, doubting her ability to make the correct choice.

Lying on the bed, staring out the window into the darkness, she thinks back to 2012—what a crazy year. Just minutes after learning that neither of them had left the other on their wedding day, Christopher married that bitch who sabotaged their relationship, and then he knocked her up within weeks of their nuptials. John Ross proposed to her and Elena happily accepted, only to find out he was the lying and conniving bastard he swore not to be. When Christopher learned that the new Mrs. Ewing was a crazy sociopath, he finally left her and came back to his true love, ring in hand. First love won out over all else…but only for a short time.

Suzannah was already on her way and her mother was a scared and immature 33 year old looking for someone to tell her what to do. John Ross to the rescue.

"If an answer was what I was looking for, I certainly went to the right place because, John Ross, you have an answer for everything," she mused aloud. "It was the biggest decision of my life, and I let someone else make it for me."

Elena shook her head remembering going to see him just hours after leaving her midwife's office. _My dear husband you were so happy, and, as you said, you didn't come with any baggage. No scheming wife, no babies born of another woman, no pending divorce—just John Ross Ewing III. You pointed out that I would be "The Mrs." well before the baby came, which would make Momma very happy. Our baby would have his or her "real" parents-no stepparents or adoptive parents for our little bundle of joy-"real" parents. "After all, look at the issues Christopher has had his whole life not being raised by his 'real' parents,'" you explained. And for someone who has never been to church, you were awfully certain that God wanted me to marry you, or "He would not have made you pregnant with my baby!" Isn't that what you said? As the icing on the cake, you noted that this precious one would be the grandchild of the next Governor and JR Ewing—there was no way more prominent then that for a Texan to enter the world._

_I didn't even realize the decision had been made when you slipped Christopher's ring off my hand and replaced it with the rock I still wear today. Not at this very moment, but I'm usually wearing it. _

Next stop, Christopher.

Although alone, she hung her head with embarrassment recalling every callous and despicable word that came out of her mouth.

"What? I'm going to raise _her_ kids, while you play daddy to John Ross' baby?" she questioned him.

"No, they would be our children. Just as any others we would have would be," he matter-of-factly answered. "For weeks, you've said the twins would be _our_ kids. Why is this baby any different?"

She challenged his optimism. "What if I only love my baby? What if I don't love yours?"

A bullet struck his heart when she doubted her ability to love his children. _How could anyone not love them_? he wondered. They were only the size of a grain of rice, and he already loved them more than he thought it possible to love anyone, including her.

"None of these children asked to be brought into the world. The least we can do is make sure they are loved when they get here, preferably even before that," Elena explained.

"They will be. They already are," he assured her.

"They deserve to have parents who love them."

"They will."

"They deserve to have _their_ parents be the ones who love them."

That bullet hit his soul, releasing all of his insecurities and bringing them to the surface: Had he been born of her, Mom never would have left him behind when she walked out. It is not possible for someone to love their adopted children as much as they would their own flesh and blood. He was not a "real" Ewing, and would never live up to the name.

Assuming the words must have come out wrong, he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"Elena, Honey, there's enough love to go around. We can love them all," he declared with certainty.

She just stared at him.

"Angel, you just found out you're pregnant. You don't need to make any decisions at this moment." Gently, he used his thumb to wipe away the tears that had trickled down her cheek.

She took his hands in hers and put them in her lap. Her ring was gone. _Oh, my God! This cannot be happening…not again._

"I already love this baby. I want my baby raised by its' parents. John Ross and I, we created this baby, we love this baby, we are going to raise this baby together and be a family," Elena clarified.

She missed the sarcasm when he asked, "A _real_ family, with _real_ parents?"

"Yes, a real family, with real parents."

When she heard herself, she realized what Christopher had been hearing her say all along, and had to retract it. "Oh, Christopher, that's not what I meant."

Not able to be near her any longer, he walked to the other side of the room. "I think it's exactly what you meant," he replied angrily. "You just didn't realize how shallow it is until you heard yourself say it."

"I don't feel that way. You know I don't. Christopher, that's…," she was explaining profusely when he cut her off, as the exchange was becoming excruciating for him. He abruptly changed the focus. "When did you go to the doctor?"

"Yesterday afternoon," she responded, confused by the new line of questioning.

"When did you see John Ross?"

"Last night."

Christopher, scathingly, asked her purpose in going to him. "So, you went to ask him if he wanted you back? If he said 'no,' you were going to stay with me because you had no other option, but since he said 'yes', you're leaving me for him?"

"No, that's not it at all. Christopher, I didn't know how you were going to feel about me being pregnant with John Ross' baby," she revealed, trying to make him understand her actions.

For the first time, he raised his voice. "Had you asked me, I would have told you, just like I'm telling you now! I do not care! Elena, I love you; of course, I love your baby. Any babies you have, I will love and they will be ours."

"It's his baby. The right thing to do was tell him," she countered.

His sarcasm returned. "So, you gave him first dibs? What are you doing-selling yourself to the highest bidder? Am I supposed to up the ante now?"

His mockery both hurt and insulted her. "Christopher!"

"What?" he asked, ticked off at her for being offended by what _he_ was saying. "I'm confused. For weeks, you have told me that you wanted to marry me in spite of the fact that I'm already married to the psycho-bitch pregnant with my twins. You said we should go to court and try to get sole custody, so you could adopt them. If not, you still wanted to be more than just a stepmother. I never asked you, you told me that's what _you_ wanted.

"And now, you walk in here and tell me you're pregnant and going to marry John Ross? I find out that yesterday you lied about being at work because you didn't want me to know you were getting a pregnancy test. Last night when you told me you were tired, you were actually at my cousin's making plans to marry him because you're too damn petty to love anything that doesn't have your DNA!

"Jesus Christ, Elena! How the hell do you expect me to react?"

It broke him; she broke him.

Christopher was not Christopher after that. He grew bitter, hateful, and downright mean. He also became nervous, tense, and reclusive. It hurt her heart to see him in such pain, yet there was nothing she could do, but watch him crash and burn. And crash and burn he did.

He had been the goofy kid who grew into the cute teenage boy liked by everyone who knew him, then into a very bright and very good-looking man who was kind and charming. On a dime, he turned into a surly son of a bitch whom was difficult to be around.

Immediately moving off the ranch and into John Ross' condo, she did not witness his antics, but heard about them through the Ewing grapevine. On the rare occasion he was not sleeping, he was usually bitching at someone about something. Elena never understood why Rebecca stayed in Dallas with the arguments she and Christopher supposedly had. Even while she was pregnant, Rebecca would shout at him and throw things, igniting that temper of his. The two of them would argue about anything and everything, and did not care who was within earshot.

_Their form of communication hasn't changed much_, she snidely acknowledged. _That bitch still pushes his buttons just to prove she can, to lay bare her power to set him off at her whim. Wonder if Christopher knows that's why she does it? _Spouses being off limits for discussion, Elena has never told him.

Quickly, she and John Ross married with only their parents present. As her belly grew with sweet Suzannah, the newlyweds settled into wedded bliss. Together they bought a house in Dallas, and started building a life together, as well as Ewing Energies. John Ross begged her to cut Christopher out of the company, as he obviously did not want to be a part of it. Elena would not hear of it, and he was not going to argue with his new wife whose pregnancy hormones were raging.

For weeks on end, Christopher did not go to work at the lab, and certainly not to Ewing Energies even though the office space was rented and the contracts signed. After a couple of months without any communication, she and John Ross went to the ranch to talk with him.

In her mind's eye, Elena saw his look of disbelief staring back at her.

"Are you two out of your fucking minds? I am not going into business with you," he spat at them.

Having strategized their approach before arriving, they tried several different angles to try to get him to come around. John Ross played the family card.

"Christopher, Ewing Energies is going to put our family back on top. Remember when we were kids and Ewing Oil was on the top of that building? We can do that again."

"Ewing at the top of a building? I don't even want it at the end of my name. In fact, I would change my name if I could." Then he gave this odd smile, and continued. "You know, I should ask Rebecca about that. She has a couple of aliases; I'm sure she can get one for me, too."

It was an unusual statement out of nowhere. Not understanding what he meant, Elena dismissed it and tried to appeal to his intellectual side. "Your research is so important; you can't just give up on it. With Ewing Energies, you'll have a state of the art lab to work on any project you want."

"I already have a lab where I can work on any project I want," he countered without emotion.

When all else failed, Elena showed him the contract they all had signed about four months before, explaining he was legally bound. He picked up the contract, tore it in half, and said, "Now I'm not." She clarified that the contract was still legally binding, not knowing if that was true, and she believed they could handle this without involvement from the courts. Christopher did not like dealing with the legal system, and she knew he would avoid it at all costs.

John Ross felt as though he and his wife had given it their best shot, but would allow Elena to draw that conclusion on her own. He went back to the office, leaving her alone with Christopher.

"We need you."

"We? Who's 'we'?" he questioned. "You made it pretty clear that you don't need me."

"Christopher, don't. You know why I had to do that," she quietly asserted.

"If I was an asshole who wanted you to have an abortion, or if I had told you that I didn't want anything to do with your illegitimate child, if I was even indifferent about the situation, I would understand," he started. Not able to sit still another second, he stood up, walked to the other side of the kitchen, and stared out the window while drumming his thumb repeatedly on the counter top. "I didn't care. I loved you…everything about you, and I would have loved…" He willed himself to keep it together…at least until after she was gone.

He turned in her direction, but could not look at her and her swelling belly. "Are we done here?"

Although she knew it was underhanded, Elena took advantage of his despair. Taking a straightforward approach, she gave instructions, in hopes of coercing him into doing as told without thinking about it. "Tomorrow I'll email you the information about the different places I've looked into for the lab. Let me know what you think, your set up needs, and whatever else." When he did not respond, Elena left the house, chastising herself for using manipulative tactics right out of John Ross' playbook.

Two days later, he replied to her email with a list of lab equipment. Elena smiled. _It worked_! _I'm not proud of it, but I'm glad it worked, _she praised herself.

Beep, beep, beep. The alarm clock, snapped her out of her reverie. Quickly, she ran into her bedroom to turn off the alarm, and then went back, stripped the sheets from the guest bed and ran them down to the washer before coming back upstairs to get ready for the day.

The honed marble walls held the steam in the large shower, warming it up quickly. "Back to the rest of your life, Marilena," she declared as the hot water soaked her hair, and the scent of CK One was rinsed from her skin.

Copyright 2012 tbimh

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	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**The Turning Point  
Part 1  
**(June 13, 2027)

Anne had grown quite fond of her daughter-in-law. In fact, she loved her as if she was her daughter. It did not happen overnight, but was quicker than she would have thought possible fifteen years ago. The Rebecca she knew now was not reminiscent of the scheming femme fatale that had entered their lives. Today, she was a caring mother and devoted wife, as well as a very polished woman who relished in her socialite status.

Her son-in-law, however, had many qualities of which Anne was not so fond. She found him controlling, demanding, and obstinate. In his defense, Christopher was very forgiving and did not hold a grudge. Nor did he ever interfere with his wife having or doing whatever she wanted, and was very complimentary, especially of her parenting. Anne also had to give him credit for still being there, as their marriage was doomed before it started. A lot of that credit also went to her dear husband.

Bobby did everything within his power, and even stepped over those lines at times, to keep those two together. He could not bear the thought of his innocent grandchildren growing up pawns of their parents' hatred for one another. On one of his good days, she would tell him that she celebrated their anniversary with them, and he would give her that warm smile that made her fall in love with him. Before his second aneurism, they discussed many times how easy it would have been to give up when there appeared to be no hope of reconciliation, and were thankful they had not.

One day, Bobby had the idea for the two of them to meet Christopher for lunch, hoping to convince his recalcitrant son that Rebecca needed more from him. Both of them left the restaurant feeling helpless and hopeless.

Christopher was in rare form that day. All of his nasty personality traits came out in that short period of time. He was sarcastic, angry, condescending, and paranoid. It was painful to witness. Fourteen years later, it was difficult to reconcile that the good-natured, likable man sitting across the table had been such a bastard back then.

"Bobby, are you sure this is a good idea?" Anne asked on their way out the door.

"No, but none of my _good_ ideas have worked," he admitted, getting into the car. "Until he decides he wants something to change, I don't know if we can help Christopher anymore, but we can help Rebecca."

"I'm very worried about him. I assumed that once he held those little babies, all the dissension between he and Rebecca would disappear," she told him. "But they're eight weeks old and he is as bitter as ever."

"I know. The only time he's not miserable is when he's with them, but as soon as they're gone, he's right back to square one. It breaks my heart to see my son as an empty shell of the great kid he used to be. He was always intense, but he was also happy. Now he's intense and miserable, and difficult to be around. There are days I wake up hoping he's already left the house, or that he sleeps all day, so I don't have to deal with him at all," he confided.

"He treats Rebecca terribly," Anne informed him, as if he did not already know.

"Yes, he does, but he doesn't see it that way. I have talked with him about the way he interacts with her, his temper, the changes in him over the last year; he doesn't think it's him. I've suggested he and Rebecca try counseling, that he go talk with someone by himself, or at least see a doctor to get something to calm him down for those days he's so hyper he can't be still. When the boy never stops moving, it exhausts me just to watch him," Bobby complained.

Anne nodded in agreement. "The other morning, his leg shook the entire time he was eating breakfast, and he had just returned from a 5 mile run. He constantly taps his fingers and cracks his neck—he's wound up so tight, I'm afraid he's going to have a massive heart attack at 34," she disclosed. "Thankfully, he's not drinking."

"Yeah, why is that?"

"He told me it was because the only thing he could imagine worse than going through the 'awful fucking life he's stuck in,' would be going through it hung over."

Bobby gave a heavy sigh before dryly acknowledging his son's resolve. "One good decision in the last 12 months isn't too bad, I guess. Maybe we shouldn't bring up Rebecca today. Let's just have a nice lunch with him, and then go from there."

"She can't live there by herself anymore, Bobby," his wife implored. "We need to help her."

"You're right. We do," he conceded.

Arriving early, Christopher decided to wait at the bar and have a LaCriox. A very pretty woman a few years his junior was sitting nearby. After introducing herself as Lindsey, she struck up a conversation. Getting up and walking away would have been incredibly rude, even for him, so he felt compelled to sit there for a few minutes before creating an excuse to leave. Never thinking he would wish for Anne to appear, Christopher was surprised to find himself doing so.

It had been a few years, but he had the feeling this woman, if not a very conservatively dressed hooker, was trying to feel him out as to whether or not he was available. Being too evasive, he supposed, she finally came right out and asked if he was meeting his girlfriend for lunch. The moment he said no, Lindsey jumped at the chance to invite him to have lunch with her brother and her. Very politely, Christopher explained he had to decline as he was meeting his father and his father's wife.

In time, it was revealed they both enjoyed running, basketball and horseback riding. After telling him she was in town for several days, Lindsey asked if he might like to join her for a run one morning. Although she seemed sweet, albeit a bit forward for his taste, the last thing he wanted was another woman in his life. He explained that life was pretty crazy right now and running alone helped him to clear his head.

Lindsey smiled and put her hand on his. "You don't strike me as the type to lead a crazy life," she ribbed him. "It's not by choice," he kindly replied. As she continually tried to draw him out, one of his college girlfriends, popped into his head. In an effort to explain his situation, and put an end to the probing questions, he told her about Bethany.

"When I was in college I dated this girl who loved soap operas. Every day at three, Bethany went to her dorm room to watch 'her stories,' as she called them, so sometimes I would sit with her. These shows were full of horrible people in dysfunctional relationships living convoluted lives; they were awful. Fast-forward twelve, thirteen years, and my life has become a soap opera, and I am one of those horrible people with dysfunctional relationships, living a convoluted life. I probably should have married her because she would be loving this." Shaking his head slightly, he smiled at just how absurd it all was.

Lindsey put her hand on his arm and let it slide down his hard bicep, then back up again. "I don't know about the horrible part, but you definitely have the soap opera look down pat," she teased.

Just then, they were interrupted. "Hey, Linds."

Christopher turned and stared right into her brother's stomach. When he looked up, the point guard for the Dallas Mavericks was standing there. After the introductions, he told Lindsey to enjoy her stay in town. She reminded Christopher she was staying at Zaza before she and her brother were escorted to their table.

She was quite stunning with her long legs and blonde hair, and knew basketball, which impressed him far more than her other qualities, but he had no interest in her beyond that. He thought about Elena and Rebecca. There was still the slightest pang for Elena, which he found odd, since he hated her with a fervor. For Rebecca, he felt something, but was not sure what. Between the years of lying and her ability to carry out such despicable acts, he loathed her as a person. Yet, much to his dismay, there was still some affection toward her for giving him his kids and for loving them so much. He was pondering that when his father and Anne arrived.

Being his son was actually smiling, Bobby felt their lunch date was off to a good start. After the waitress served their meals, Bobby broached the subject that served as the reason for their meeting– Rebecca.

His son smirked at him. "Now I know why you wanted to meet at the Palm; you think I won't cause a scene here."

Anne gave a worried look to her husband.

"Because you _won't _cause a scene here," Bobby instructed him.

"Is that a challenge?" he taunted, not passing up the opportunity to provoke his father.

"No, it's not a challenge," Bobby countered exasperatedly. "It's a reminder of how to behave—keep your voice down, don't use impolite language, and smile."

Christopher offered his father a phony smile.

Bobby sighed. "Son, you have to admit, you have not been easy to get along with for the better part of a year, now. Every time anyone tries to talk to you, you bite their head off, then storm out of the room."

"I've kind of been going through some stuff," he responded sarcastically.

"We know you have, but you need to start making some decisions. You can't just leave your life and the lives of your wife and kids in limbo," Bobby advised.

"Don't call her that," Christopher angrily replied.

"That is who she is. If you're determined to change that, then you need to do something about it."

"I'm not really sure what else you want me to do. The papers were drawn up months ago; she won't sign them," he contested. "I suppose I could try to force her to sign them, but be prepared to come bail me out of jail…again."

"Of course I don't want that."

"Christopher, she's having a hard time caring for two newborns," Anne chimed in.

"I am happy to permanently rid her of that problem".

Nearing the end of her rope with her stepson, Anne snapped back. "That's not the answer and you know it. They're babies; they need their mother."

"If their mother wasn't a crazed pathological liar, I would agree with you. I'll hire another nanny. The less time with her, the better," he explained, conveying no emotion.

"You would rather have nannies and night nurses raise your children instead of their mother? That's not right, Christopher," Anne declared. "They need her, and she loves them."

Over the last year, he had grown suspicious of his father's wife and her motives. "Anne, what is this obsession you have with her? Over and over again she has proven to be the Devil's daughter, and you gloss over all of it because she's _a mother_?"

"Christopher, change your tone," Bobby warned before trying to reason with him. "Take the emotion out of it for a second and listen to what Anne is saying. Would you rather have your children raised in _your _home with family, or by hired help, no matter how caring they are? What are you going to do next? Keep them away from her by sending them off to boarding school, like your cousin was and have them end up like him?" Bobby immediately regretted his choice of words as he watched the aggravation on his son's face turn to grief.

"I would sell my soul to be John Ross right now," he resentfully divulged.

"I know you would," Bobby empathized. "I'm sorry, that was a very bad example. What we're trying to say is that Rebecca needs help, and we want to be the ones who help her with _your _children, our grandchildren."

Honestly not understanding what his father was getting at, Christopher asked him for advice. "What else should I do?"

Bobby took a deep breath, and then just said it. "We would like for her to move to Southfork." Although he knew he should not have, Bobby felt a bit of relief that his son choked on his water and took a full minute before being able to breathe normally again. That kept him from rattling off a stream obscenities, which Bobby assumed would be his first reaction.

With a look of utter disbelief on his face, he questioned them. "You can't be serious. You want her to live on the ranch? No, she can't. The answer is no," Christopher definitively stated, getting visibly agitated for the first time.

Anne and Bobby glanced at each other.

"Why do you two keep looking at each other like that?" he snapped at them.

"Christopher," Bobby delicately addressed his son. "I was hoping you would feel differently."

"Well, I don't."

Trying to be diplomatic and hoping to lead Christopher to believe it was his own idea, Bobby continued. "I hope you will eventually come around and see that it is the best thing for _your _children."

"The best thing for my children is to not be around that…" Before continuing, Christopher lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper and leaned in toward his father and Anne, as he would continue to do throughout lunch when he used "impolite" language. "…slut who conned me into marrying her. However, I can't go to the courts about custody if I am still married to her, and I can't sue her for fraud because her father has more money than God, and will buy every judge in Texas to get the case thrown out."

Determined to make his son agreeable, Bobby inquired, "If you really feel that the best thing for Robbie and Ashlyn is to not be around her, then wouldn't it be best for them to live at the ranch with you?"

"Yes, with me and without her." Christopher looked back and forth between his father and Anne, not at all comprehending their point of view.

"Have y'all not been paying attention for the last year? Do you not see what she has done to me? Do you not understand _who_ she is? Just the thought of her makes my skin crawl. The sight of her makes me sick. And having to talk with her, makes me want to shoot myself, or her, or both. She cannot move into our house," he stated firmly.

His father replied with his own firm statement. "It's not your decision to make."

That stung. Christopher stared past them for a minute while drumming his fingers on the table, waiting for the stinging of his ego to subside. Once it finished, he nodded his head. "OK, so you weren't asking me, you were telling me." Putting the smile back on his face, he asked, "So when is moving day?"

"We haven't talked with her yet, but we will very soon," his father asserted.

Shaking his head, Christopher laughed quietly. "You thought living with JR was bad? Wait until you get _this _sociopath in your midst. You'll think JR should be canonized."

"Christopher…" Anne started.

"I'm not kidding, but it will be your problem because I won't be there. I won't live in the same house with her. I won't live on the same ranch with her." For clarification, he added, "I don't even want to be on the same planet as her."

"Son, don't be like that. It will be hard, but we're a family," Bobby rationalized.

The phrase struck a chord within. Not knowing if he wanted the answer, but having a strong need to ask, Christopher apprehensively looked to his father. "Is this because she's Mom's niece? Is that what this is about? That you feel compelled to take care of her because she's my mother's, your first wife's, niece?"

Slowly, Bobby answered. "No." The question did not correlate to the circumstance in his opinion, but apparently did to his son. He could see the anxiety building and heard his son's knuckles cracking. Another one of the strange ticks he had picked up in the past year.

"Are you sure? Because," he turned to Anne briefly. "No offense, Anne. I know he loves you, too." Looking back at his father, Christopher continued. "You really, _really _loved her, would have done anything for her, would have done anything for her to come home, right?"

Still not sure where this was leading, Bobby nodded. "Of course."

"Giving her a home, keeping her safe, making her happy; taking care of her would be like taking care of Mom. Rebecca is a part of her. More a part of her than…"

As the realization dawned on him, Bobby softly put his hand on his son's arm. "Christopher, this has nothing to do with who her relatives are. It _only _has to do with those two little babies that came from _you _and her," he assured his son, and he meant it. Bobby found Rebecca's behavior deplorable and felt her parental rights should have been terminated. When that was impossible without exposing the familial ties, to which his son was adamantly opposed, he had to rationalize that Christopher and Rebecca's marriage was legal within the eyes of the law. Once he accepted the unorthodox situation, the only other goal was for his grandbabies to live in an environment that was loving and nurturing. The dissension between their parents was preventing such, but Bobby had to keep striving to reach that goal. Robbie and Ashlyn deserved a happy home, and Christopher was never so happy as when both of his parents lived under one roof.

Although he did not fully believe his father's answer, Christopher was somewhat comforted by it.

"We want to help take care of _your _children and she is their mother, so they come as a package," Anne justified.

"But I'm not part of that package?" Christopher inquired. "I'm expendable?"

His frustration with his son was rising, but Bobby knew he had to stay calm if there was any chance of Christopher remaining civil. "Of course not, but you keep excluding yourself."

"I think you have that backwards. I keep being excluded," he countered.

Bobby put his hand up to his temple; he could feel a headache coming on.

Christopher leaned in toward his father and lowered his voice, but not so much so that Anne would not hear him. "Dad, pretend it isn't me, and pretend your wife does not have a strange attachment to that deranged lunatic. If it were someone else who told you that their…" He stopped mid-sentence as he could not bring himself to refer to Rebecca with such an intimate term, and then started over. "If it were someone else who told you that the bitch they gave a ring to, did to them all the crap that she has done to me, what advice would you give to them?"

He had long ago grown tired of his son's actions—the drama, the foul language, and the way he was treating both Anne and Rebecca, but Bobby still tried to reason with him. "The same I am giving you. That they…"

Sitting back up straight, Christopher cut him off. "Then you still have no idea what I am going through. Because if someone told _me _this saga, I would ask why they hadn't put a bullet in their head yet."

"Please stop saying things like that, Christopher!" Anne pleaded with her stepson. "We are very worried about you. Please let us help you. Let us get you some help."

Lightly, he put his hand on hers. "Annie," her stepson condescendingly called her. "The only help I need is getting that witch further away from me, not closer."

Bobby could take a lot of crap, but drew the line at his adult son speaking to his wife with such disrespect. Putting his napkin on the table, he announced, "I think we're done here." For the first time that day, he saw in Christopher's eyes that frightening anger that showed up a year ago and never left.

Reaching out for his father's arm to signal him to stay seated, Christopher kept his voice low and deliberate. "No, we're not." Quickly, his eyes softened and his voice went back to a normal tone. "Perhaps the two of you are not aware of what has happened to me, so I will bring you up to speed."

"We know what has happened," Bobby contended.

Christopher smiled while he pled his case. "No, no. You have to hear it from start to finish to really appreciate just how surreal it is. Let's go back, say, three and a half years when I was engaged to be married to my high school sweetheart whom I dated on and off since we were fifteen years old. That's a good place to start."

Anne patted her husband's hand letting him know that she was fine staying put, and he did not need to say any more to his son in defense of her honor.

Being quite animated, Christopher presented his version of the events that brought him to this point in his life. "The evening we are to get married, Elena never shows. When I go to look for her, I learn she has packed her things and moved to Mexico without a forwarding address. Talk about a blow to the ego," he declared as he shook his head and laughed before continuing. "I think about going to her grandmother's just over the border where we visited a few times throughout the sixteen years we dated, but the only thing I can think to say to her is, 'You bitch! I can't believe you jilted me!' Realizing that would probably not win her back, I decided against it."

"We don't need to hear…" Bobby began, but was again interrupted.

"Oh, yes you do, because you two seem to have forgotten everything that has transpired because _someone _birthed a couple of babies. That fast," he snapped his fingers at them, "every devious, deceitful, illegal, not to mention sick and immoral thing she has ever done, just vanished in your minds."

"Excuse me, can I get anyone something else from the bar?" the waitress inquired.

Leaning back in his chair, Christopher invited them to order. "Dad, Anne, please get something. We're going to be here a little while longer." The waitress took their bar order, and then Anne asked for a couple of more waters as her stepson had finished both his own and his father's, and had started on hers. As their order was filled, Christopher continued with his diatribe.

"Since I don't go to Mexico and the thought of staying in Dallas is unbearable, I decide to get as far away as possible. Dr. Hanson informs me that the grant came through, so we took a team to China to explore the feasibility of the methane project I had worked on since grad school. I immediately meet the most lovely young woman, who is supposedly an orphan named Rebecca Sutter. She lived with a guy named Tommy. She said she was his sister, but was actually his wife. So, I guess the whole time we were dating, she was also fucking him since he was her husband. Or maybe not, because I'm her husband now and the last thing I want to do is…"

"Christopher," Bobby cautioned.

He looked over at Anne, apologized for his crude language, and then back at his dad. "Nail her."

Bobby pushed his chair back from the table. "We've heard enough."

Keeping his voice in a normal volume, Christopher tenaciously stated, "No, you haven't. You brought me here to say what you have to say, and now you are going to listen to what I have to say. I'll keep it as brief as possible, but a lot of important details are coming up that you won't want to miss."

After his wife nodded her head signifying they should stay, Bobby pulled his chair back up to the table. Unenthusiastically, he listened as his son droned on.

"After a while, I fall in love with this sweet, sweet girl, and bring her home to Texas to get married and live happily ever after. When I arrive back in Dallas, I find my cousin, who was practically raised as my brother, sleeping with my former fiancé in the guest cottage 50 yards away from my house. If that's not bad enough, the first time I see them, John Ross swaggers in like he has just gotten a blow job in the high school parking lot, while Elena is so close and cozy with him, I can practically hear her purr."

Bobby noticed that his son started smiling—a real smile not one of those crazy ones he gives when he's talking so fast you can hardly follow. "Excuse me a second," he said as he stood up to greet a very attractive woman, and…is that?

"My brother needs to warm up for tonight, so we're going to go," Lindsey explained.

After making introductions all around, Christopher spoke with her briefly before she departed. Once he explained to his very perplexed father how he came to know the sister of the Mavericks' leading point guard, Christopher continued with his fast-paced narrative.

"So, where was I? Oh, my wedding day, who could forget their wedding day?" he facetiously asked them. "This is where is gets weird. Twenty-five minutes before I'm supposed say 'I do,' Elena slaps me across the face for breaking up with her via email a few hours before we were to elope. I have no idea what she's talking about, but eventually learn that my beautiful bride hacked into my computer, sent the email, and set up our 'chance' encounter on the train all so she could steal the methane data I had worked on for over a decade. But the kicker is, she is doing all of this to give the information to her father, who is very much alive and very much _my _Uncle Cliff, the brother of my estranged mother who disappeared from my life when I was seven."

Bobby and Anne could not help but be disturbed by the soft laughter that overcame Christopher for a moment, or by the way it stopped suddenly and he picked up where he left off. "Now, you have to admit, that is some pretty twisted stuff. Of course, as my luck would have it, she lied about staying on the pill, so by this point she is a couple of months pregnant with, not one, but two babies.

"Speaking of babies, my once and again fiancé breaks her engagement with John Ross when she finally sees him for the lying, conniving son of a bitch he is and always will be, takes back my ring, and tells me she wants to be mother to my yet unborn children. Elena, however, is so incredibly out of tune with her own body, that she doesn't know she is already pregnant with my cousin's baby. Which, coincidentally, puts her due date just a little after Rebecca's. I tell Elena that I don't care; I love her, so of course I love her baby regardless of the sperm donor. She, on the other hand, thinks kids should be raised only by their bio parents, which was a lovely thing to say to someone who was not only adopted, but told so incessantly by said cousin.

"At this point, I'm sure you're thinking I should just cut my loses and move the hell away, and I would almost agree with you. However, I, unlike my mother, actually feel an attachment to my children, and will not leave them, so they can wonder every day for the rest of their lives just what they did to make me go away," he divulged, exposing those vulnerabilities he tries to keep hidden deep inside.

"What the hell, let's try Plan B and rid myself of those in my life for whom I have crossed that thin line between love and hate." Christopher leaned in before continuing. "It's hard to believe this part, because these folks who have lied to me, cheated on me, stolen from me, and left me, will **_not _**let me go. My psychopath won't divorce me, and my cousin and his…my former fiancé, will not let me out of our contract to start a company together. Honestly, there are only three people in my life I have ever truly hated. Two of them I have to work with everyday, and the other one is raising my kids." As an afterthought, Christopher added, "Oh, and Mom. Make that four."

Bobby was heartbroken watching his son demonstrate how far gone he really was. _Pamela Ewing, _he thought. _Although I forgave you long ago for leaving me, I will never forgive you for the lifelong burden you gave our son the day you selfishly walked out that door and never looked back_.

Anne and Bobby left the Palm disheartened. As usual, Rebecca brought Robbie and Ashlyn over after her nanny left at five. Hours later when Christopher still had not returned, she went home upset and Bobby sat in his chair concerned and anxious. Hoping to alleviate his unspoken fear that his son had done something reckless, Anne tried to track him down.

Soon after, Bobby called to her from the family room. "Annie, you can stop making phone calls. I found him."

"Where?"

"The Mavericks game," he revealed. Bobby reversed the DVR and the two of them watched his son sitting court side, talking with the pretty woman from the restaurant that afternoon. "At least he's OK," Anne assured her husband, giving him a smile. Inside she was fuming. She wanted nothing more than to introduce that boy to the business end of her shotgun for being so cruel to his wife who was still hoping they would get past this troubling time.

Oddly, that was also the night it all started to turn around, Anne remembered. Christopher was less antagonistic after that, and his interactions with Rebecca became more cordial. Very slowly the two of them began putting together the shattered remains of a union based on little more than the love each held for two little angels. Eventually, that love spread to each other, and a family was born.

As Rebecca had her family laughing from an old story she was telling, Anne smiled. It was heartwarming to see the couple with an unbelievably tumultuous past find serenity and contentment together. They both still had their idiosyncrasies—Rebecca continued to needle him to no end, and Christopher still raised his voice to his wife—but there was forgiveness and understanding, and a commitment to their family. _I don't know how you two did it, but you made it work._ _Happy anniversary!_

Copyright 2012 tbimh

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	5. Chapter 5

***Note**: Chapter 5 was previously the last half of chapter 4, with a few changes and a passage added to the end.

Chapter 5

**The Turning Point  
Part II  
**(June 13, 2027)

Out of the corner of his eye, Christopher caught Anne staring at him. He never warmed up to her in all these years. Nonetheless, she loved his kids, his wife, and most importantly, his father. That made Christopher feel an attachment to her as one does a family member who is a part of their life only because others intertwine them. He has always felt under a microscope with her, every word and action judged. For almost a decade and a half, he had tried to make up for the awful person he was the first couple of years of his marriage. Rebecca forgave him a long time before, but Anne still had not. He supposed she never would.

Granted, his father's wife had witnessed him at his worst. Shouting matches between Rebecca and him, non-stop cursing, calling his wife every demeaning name he could think of—and it went on for a long time. At no other time in his life did he feel so angry, hopeless, and disconnected. For so long, he just wanted to be alone. Except for his babies, people made him anxious and self-conscious, not to mention infuriated him constantly. Every moment spent with others was a chore he forced himself to complete. His babies he held contently for hours.

Ashlyn and Robbie being born was the absolute happiest moment of his life. He was just a few feet away from the doctor when she performed the c-section. It was awe-inspiring, and he definitely felt closer to his wife in the days that followed. Despite that, he was still full of rage and could not reconcile how he could feel warmth for Rebecca, yet still hold a level of hatred toward her for derailing his life.

Several weeks later, there came the slightest flicker of desire for closeness. In hindsight, benevolence had presented many opportunities to change the course in his downward spiral into darkness. Those encounters came and went without notice, until the day all the stars aligned, and someone was able to get through the wall he built. By rekindling a lost feeling inside of him, a turning point finally occurred. Lindsey was that turning point.

Under the guise of having a nice lunch together, his father and Anne blindsided him about Rebecca moving in. He left the Palm unable to contain his anger, and went straight to the gym.

After running on a treadmill until his legs started to give, he lifted until he no longer could, the bar on his chest pinning him to the bench. Most people would have had a spotter, or accepted the assistance offered, not muttered, "I got this." Need, hurt, and blind trust were weaknesses he possessed, but tried desperately to hide. Pulling back the curtain and putting them on display was not an option. He would get that goddamned bar back on the uprights by himself if it indented his chest before he conjured up the strength to do it. When he felt ready to try again, he had to allow much of the weight to press against his upper body so as to inch his hands a little further apart. Taking a deep breath, he gripped hard, his fingers turning blue. When the weight of the barbell felt it literally might crush his heart, he could see in his head those fucking bitches that had already ripped it out. Rebecca, that whore to whom he was forever tied, telling lie after lie as she kissed him and loved him. His Elena lying next to him with the morning sun dancing off her hair, highlighting that angelic face, while she professed her unending devotion. As the etching in the metal pressed hard into his palms, her sweet voice echoed in his ears. "You're the only one I have ever loved, Christopher. The only one I _will_ ever love. You're my soul mate." After such a declaration, how could she destroy it all days later? The muscles in his arms and chest tensed as his mind cruelly relived that agonizing scene of Elena turning her back and walking out the door, when the trainer's calm voice came from behind him. "You got it, you can let go now."

It burned up the rage, but left him feeling nothing. Any emotion—anger, hurt, distress, hatred—was preferable to none at all. It was the sense of having only a physical body, a skeleton with organs and blood, but no soul. It had happened before and progressed to an unbearable state of being numb. When that numbness came over him, he tried to stay in bed. Even the most basic interaction with others, such as being in the same room with them, was aggravating and exhausting. To be in the presence of someone carrying out actions that had purpose and meaning in life, was frustrating when he barely felt alive himself.

In his mind, he knew those around him were an integral to his life, and yet did not care if he never saw them again. In fact, he would rather not see any of them again. Even Robbie and Ashlyn were not immune to his cynicism. They were his precious little angels, but they also dug the dark hole he lived in. Rebecca would just be a bad memory by now had she not been pregnant. Without the added stress of his children, he knows Elena would have married him, and no one would be the wiser as to the paternity of the daughter she would soon hold in her arms.

When his emotions (or rather the anger, since it was the only one he had anymore) returned last time, he breathed a sigh of relief that he had not gone crazy, as he feared. At the time, he prayed he would never have to go through such torture again. Being it went unanswered, he now felt foolish for doing so, and refused to plead for relief from this living hell. He would deal with it alone, as he did everything else.

Trying hard to clear his head did not keep his mind from wandering back to that void, and the need to isolate himself. This was different. Although he felt hollow inside, the thought of being alone left him cold. Nevertheless, there was no way he was going home tonight, and if he stuck around too long, his fellow gym rats would show up. They were good guys and he saw them almost every day, but tonight they were not what he needed. A pretty smile came to mind, and the next thing he knew, he was hanging up his phone with a plan.

Between his locker and the dry cleaning in his car, he managed to pull together something decent to wear after showering. As he dressed, he was anticipating the evening ahead, which made him a little uneasy, as indifference had replaced happiness for him long before. He debated canceling, but something told him it was vital to suck it up and follow through with the plans he had made.

Dinner, the Mavericks game, out with her brother, and back to Zaza with the unique array of people who hang out there all night, was not how he thought he would spend his evening, but was glad he had. Lindsey could tell a great story and had many adventures of which to tell. Happiness exuded from her. She laughed and smiled, and had him doing the same. At dawn, he felt differently than when he arrived the previous evening. Christopher had actually enjoyed spending time with someone. It was a little unnerving, but welcomed, as was the deep sleep that came a little while later. Those two hours were so restful, he did not even care that the lights woke him, but it took him a minute to realize where he was and why Kenny was talking to him.

"Why didn't you sleep on the couch upstairs in your office?" his assistant inquired. "It would have been much more comfortable than that padded bench."

Christopher gave the young kid a perplexed look. "I have an office?"

Answering his boss' question with one of his own, he asked, "Haven't you ever been upstairs?"

Shaking his head and mumbling, "No," Christopher stretched his arms and cracked his neck, when Kenny asked him if he had enjoyed the game. It struck him as odd as his father had left a similar message on his phone the night before. Just then, John Ross, who had not been down to the lab in weeks, came strutting in.

"Pretty sweet seats to be talking and not paying attention," his cousin teased. "The last time we went to a game together, you shushed me for asking if you wanted another beer."

Christopher's paranoia started getting the best of him; he cracked his knuckles, and looked back and forth between the two men. Cautiously, he inquired why everyone kept asking about the game.

John Ross explained that being court side, the camera picked up Lindsey, and the announcers started talking about her being in Dallas. Christopher felt his pulse increase, and the room suddenly warmed up. "How do you know her name?" he asked, suspiciously.

With a big smile, his cousin announced, "She was the Bachelorette three seasons ago!" Not understanding what that meant, John Ross and Kenny explained the TV show to him, the premise of which Christopher found ridiculous. His cousin went on to explain that Lindsey "picked" an NBA player, so last year she was all over TV during basketball season, prior to the two breaking up. "The cameras must have flashed the two of you five or six times, but you were always too busy talking to notice." Christopher shook his head. "Just my luck," he muttered.

By mid-afternoon, exhaustion took over. After sending flowers to Lindsey with a polite note of thanks, he hit the gym, and then went home to the wrath of Rebecca.

"Where in the hell have you been?" "What are you doing staying out all night?" "Who is that reality show trash and why were you with her?" Typical Rebecca—bitch, bitch, bitch—is what it sounded like to Christopher, until a particular question rolled off her tongue.

"Did you sleep with her?" Rebecca asked, trying to sound angry although she was devastated.

Looking appalled she would ask such a thing, he answered honestly and emphatically. "No, I did not sleep with her! I didn't kiss her, I didn't touch her, I didn't do anything with her. This might be the worst marriage in history, but we're still married."

Relief washed over her, but then tears welled up in her sad eyes due to her husband's description of their relationship. Christopher felt awful. "It wasn't what it looked like, Becca. It wasn't a date, it was a basketball game. I didn't go to hurt you, and I'm sorry you had to see it," he apologized. He stopped short of saying he was sorry for going, because he was not, but he was sorry that she was hurting due to it. "Are the babies upstairs?"

When she nodded, he casually replied, "I'll take care of them when they wake up. You can go."

Doing an immediate one-eighty from being upset to furious, Rebecca screamed at him. "Damn it, Chris! I am not your household staff that you can just dismiss!"

Again, he found himself apologizing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I'm not dismissing you—just giving you a break. That's all I meant."

After she acknowledged his apology, he walked upstairs to the nursery. Twenty-four hours was much too long to go without seeing his beloved babies, yet seeing Rebecca everyday was much too often. _What the hell are we going to do_? he wondered, watching over his twins as they slept.

After such a rocky start, it was amazing that he and Rebecca were still together, but there they were celebrating their 15th anniversary. Although he would not say they were a match made in Heaven, their marriage was not a living hell either. They still argued a lot, but Rebecca was a good wife and a wonderful mother—not that he would know what that looked like. The fact that she was still there, made her far superior to his own. Pam could not even manage to be physically present, let alone emotionally. Rebecca was both.

A mother who would never leave was what he wanted most for Robbie and Ashlyn. The lovely woman by his side gave that to them, and he loved her for it. "Happy anniversary," he whispered, as he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

Copyright 2012 tbimh

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	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Those Boots

"Good night, Mrs. Ewing. You and Mr. Ewing have a nice evening, OK?" Mandy Lin called out as Elena left the office after a long day.

"Bye," was the best valediction Elena could find for that irritatingly chipper bleach blonde who ruined her day just by being present. She pulled the phone from her purse to remedy that problem.

"She has to go," Elena announced the second Christopher picked up his phone.

Although knowing full well about whom she was speaking, he played dumb. "Who?"

"You know who. Mandy Lin," she informed him.

Continuing the charade, he inquired as to why.

"She is awful, Christopher, and you know it!"

Being alone in his car, he did not have to hide the smile that suddenly came upon him. He had hired Mandy Lin less than three weeks ago. Admittedly, she dressed a bit too trendy for the office, was quite flirtatious, and obviously had a little crush on him, but Christopher honestly felt she was doing a good job. Her only responsibilities were directing phone calls to the correct department, and greeting those who came into the office. It wasn't rocket science.

Christopher was surprised that Elena found her unbearable from the get go, but now realized he should not have been. Mandy Lin was young, beautiful, coy and around both John Ross and Christopher five days a week.

"She's very polite on the phone, professional in person, and people like her," he answered.

With obvious irritation, she responded, "You mean _men_ like her."

"A lot of men walk through those doors," Christopher quipped.

All he heard was the click. "Elena?" he asked, and then had to laugh aloud at how anxiety-ridden she had become over something so ridiculous.

_How can she possibly feel threatened by that little girl? _he wondered._ No matter how overt Mandy Lin's advances are, Elena could not possibly think I would sleep with her, could she? Does she think I'm trying to replace her?_

"Never, Angel. Never," he whispered.

…

"You're standing up for her, too?" she asked her husband that evening. "You two are impossible."

"She answers the phones. How bad can she be? What's your problem with her, anyway? Is it that she always flirts with Christopher?" John Ross inquired, the hurt creeping into his eyes.

"I don't care if she flirts with the Pope, as long as she does it after five o'clock," Elena exasperatedly explained. "I care that we are a multi-million dollar corporation and when someone walks into our offices, they are greeted by some second-rate Alabaman beauty queen with fake boobs and tight clothes, making eyes with every man who comes into her view. It's unprofessional!"

Pouring a glass of wine for his wife, John Ross told her that he thought she was exaggerating. "She's never done that with me."

A little grin appeared on Elena's face. "She knows better than to even look at you. That was made very clear her first day," she explained.

He loved that possessive streak his wife had. Elena staked her claim over him with every new female that entered their life. She could piss on him and it would be less obvious that she was marking her territory.

Curiously, he asked what she had said to the young receptionist.

"I didn't have to _say_ anything, but she figured it out quickly."

"Must be why she doesn't like you very much," he teased.

Ignoring his comment, Elena continued. "She has to go and soon."

"Christopher hired her," John Ross informed his wife as he turned on the television to catch the evening news. "Take it up with him."

"He doesn't seem to think her seductive manner and abnormally proportioned bust line is a problem," she sarcastically asserted.

John Ross laughed. "Of course not; that's why he hired her."

This was getting her nowhere in her attempt to get her husband on board with her, and was aggravating her further. As he passed her wine glass to her, she asked the time of his flight in the morning.

"Not until eleven…oh, this is the story I want to see," he told her just as the broadcaster started speaking.

Elena practically gulped her wine trying to get her mind off that southern jezebel. Those big doe eyes and constant need to giggle and touch Christopher every time he walked through the front office was maddening. She spied the empty wine bottle across the room. There had been only enough for one glass, which usually was fine. That was not going to do the trick tonight, however. She needed the second one. Standing up, she asked, "Would you like anything? I'm going to the wine cellar for another bottle."

"No, Baby, I'm good," John Ross answered as she left the family room.

…

Elena started in on him the second he walked through the door. "You have to get rid of her," she demanded. "I'm not kidding, Christopher."

Grinning, he walked toward her, casually tossing his sport coat on to the bed.

Annoyed by him already, she asked, "Why are you smiling like the Cheshire cat?"

"Because I haven't seen you jealous in years, and I have to say, it's adorable," he disclosed, gently putting his hand up to her cheek to give her a kiss.

"Oh, shut up," she declared as she slapped his hand away and started for the door. "I'm leaving. I wasn't even going to come to today, and I shouldn't have."

Smiling, he went up behind her and put his arms around her waist. "Yes, you were," he maintained, pulling her close to him, taking in the smell of her perfume and warmth of her body. Even with Elena upset with him, he would rather be there than anywhere else.

"No, I wasn't," she insisted. "You ticked me off so much yesterday defending her that I had decided not to come even though it's been almost four months since we've seen each other."

He gently turned her to face him. "Now, that's not true because if you weren't coming, you never would have worn _this_," he quietly argued as his fingers lightly traced the V-neckline of her black dress. "Because you know how I love that you walk into this room as my smart and, oh, so beautiful oil baroness, and then I unhook this little thing here…" he explained as he unfastened the hook on the right side of her small waist, letting her dress fall open. Christopher's eyes drifted down the body he knew so well, and then back up to the face he had been in love with for over 30 years. Putting gentle hands on her shoulders, he slid the dress down her arms letting it fall to the floor to puddle at the high heels of her black leather boots, and then continued in that low voice that has always made her melt. "And you turn into to my little coquette."

Elena tried hard not to smile, but could not help herself.

He returned her smile with a wicked one of his own. Putting his arms on her waist, he started walking her backwards. "Now, what do I have to do to keep you in those boots for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Fire her," she answered, matter-of-factly.

As they reached the wall, he granted her request. "Done."

"Promise?" she skeptically asked him.

"Promise."

_That's a promise you better keep_, Elena warned in her mind. _Or I'll have to bring in the big guns—Rebecca_. A carefully orchestrated moment giving Rebecca Ewing a glimpse of that flirtatious girl unnecessarily straitening her husband's blazer, and Mandy Lin would find herself out of a job before Christopher could choke out an introduction. _I don't want to do that to you, Christopher, but I will_, she mused to herself.

….

Walking through the office the following day, Christopher saw Joan, the Human Resources manager, and asked if she liked the temp the agency sent over. After answering in the affirmative, Joan asked a question to which she hoped her boss did not take offense.

"Chris, did you really let Mandy Lin go because Elena didn't like her?"

"No," he lied. The young woman drove Elena nuts, which he found kind of cute, but she was nearing the end of her rope and Christopher had no desire to provoke her further. "I let her go because she was not the right person for the reception desk."

Joan smiled. "Can we go back to me doing the hiring and firing from now on?" she asked. "It is what you pay me for."

"Yes. I'm sorry for interfering, but when I saw her leave your office after her interview, I thought she'd be great out front with her pretty smile and all," he sheepishly explained.

"I think it was the 'and all' you thought would be great," Joan retorted.

Christopher laughed. "I took a stab at HR and failed, so it's back to being your job."

"Thank you."

…..

"Oh, good, we have someone in the front who doesn't wear her Miss Sweet Corn title as a badge of honor," Elena told Joan facetiously when she saw her in the break room.

Joan gave a little chuckle before responding. She did not know what that child ever did to Elena, but it was comical to watch Elena's reactions to her. "She was just fine, but I do think her new job is more suited to her skills."

Elena's sarcasm had Joan laughing again. "Batting ones eye lashes is a skill?"

"She was a musical theater major."

Elena rolled her eyes, unbelieving one could receive a degree in something so impractical. "You can major in that?"

"Apparently," Joan contended. "Chris found something for her down at Wyly Theater."

"Chris _found something_ for her?" Elena inquired for clarification.

Joan went on to explain that the previous week Christopher called one of Rebecca's friends at the theater asking if she could find something for Mandy Lin starting today. "They gave her a position in the office, but she'll be on stage in no time. She has a beautiful voice. Have you ever heard her sing?"

Not knowing, or caring, how Joan would have ever heard Mandy Lin sing, Elena just muttered something as she wandered away in search of Christopher.

Finding his office door partially open, she walked in asking some bogus question about the methane project off the coast of Kivu. "I'm on my way out, Elena. I have a meeting across town in 25 minutes," he told her as she closed the door behind her.

"You couldn't just fire her, could you?" she asked, obviously annoyed.

Gathering up his things, he answered. "No. She was fine at her job. I have to go."

As he approached the door, she broke one of their cardinal rules—discussing "them" anywhere outside of a hotel room. "You made that deal with me, Christopher James, when you knew you had something else lined up for her," she asserted with mock indignity.

His lips curved into a smile remembering the previous afternoon. "I had to," he whispered before opening the door. "I _love_ those boots."

Copyright 2012 tbimh

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	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**The Right Thing**

"What a gorgeous day we are having," Rebecca exclaimed, the unseasonably warm sunshine beating down on the balcony of the club's restaurant. "It sure beats the frigid weather we had last week."

"It was so wonderful, I didn't even mind the cold," Lacey assured her friend. "I cannot thank you enough for taking us up to Whistler with you. Your place is beautiful, and we all had a fantastic time!"

The compliment delighted Rebecca as she took pleasure in entertaining, especially at their vacation homes. "I'm so glad! Christopher, the kids and I had a great time, too. The slopes were perfect, weren't they?"

"Yes, they were. The skiing, sightseeing, and company were all perfect. I must tell you, though, Chris surprised me. He's intense even on vacation, isn't he?"

Rebecca laughed. "Yes, he is. Home, work, and play all done with the same concentration and drive."

"Wow, no wonder he's done so well for himself. If he skis with such fervor, I can't imagine how he conducts business."

Shaking her head, Rebecca teased that he drives everyone crazy. "The office staff must love when he travels, because it's the only time they get a break from him. I don't know what he thinks is going to happen if he's not there, but he is _always_ there. He makes it to Robbie's games and Ashlyn's riding competitions, and he takes a break to come home for dinner most nights, but he's usually working."

Her friend gave a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I stopped being hurt by it years ago, and filled my life with other things," she admitted. "It's just who he is. That's why we go away so often with the kids. When it's only the 4 of us and we're far away from Dallas, he can relax a bit."

"Poor guy, he must be exhausted all the time; even his guilt is intense. I still cannot get over the ranch house switch you told us about. Chris giving the house to John Ross while you were living in it because it was the 'right thing to do.' I think I would have killed him."

"The thought crossed my mind more than once that year!" she declared with a smile. "In the end, it all worked out for the best, but at the time, I was furious with him. I didn't understand why he felt so strongly that the only way to mend the family was to give his cousin rights to the house. Now I get it.

"My husband desires nothing more than everyone getting along and not competing each other, like he and John Ross always have. The two of them couldn't escape it. With the twisted way they were raised, they were destined to be adversaries," she revealed.

"Christopher doesn't want rivalries and feuds for the next generation. He wants all the kids to feel as though they have an equal right to all that is 'Ewing.' It is his firm belief, that if any of the 5 grow up to feel they are not as worthy as the others to own a piece of the ranch or work at the company, he failed as both a father and an uncle."

Somewhat believing her duties as a parent will end when her son turns 18, Lacey found that a bit far-fetched. "That's a pretty heavy responsibility to put on yourself."

"Not really," Rebecca disagreed. "We're family. He need not worry about that happening, however, those kids love each other. Besides, it's set in stone that the entire ranch will be equally divided among all 5. For now, however, it's John Ross' residence." Never passing up an opportunity to take a jab at the in-laws, Rebecca added, "So, that's why the other Ewings live in _my_ house."

"Well, I will say, _your_ home is much more beautiful than the original house."

Rebecca gave a mischievous grin. "I made sure of that. Christopher told me I could build anything I wanted, but I don't think he was counting on 6,500 square feet under roof, plus a pool house and guest cottage." She gave a little chuckle. "He never blinked an eye, though."

"Now that's my kind of man," declared Lacey. "One who just signs the checks!"

"Are you kidding?" Rebecca posed rhetorically. "Christopher probably doesn't remember how to fill out a check. I don't think he's been on the inside of a bank in a decade. I take care of all of our finances—household bills, cattle ranch expenses, investments, stocks, income, all of it."

"Good for you," Lacey congratulated, finding an all-new respect for her friend. "I have no idea where our money is, or even how much we have."

The comment concerned Rebecca. As much as she liked Lacey's husband, he left his first wife, so leaving the second one would be even easier. Not wanting her tennis partner to end up penniless, she offered her assistance. "Let me know if you ever want help remedying that problem."

Lacey took a sip of iced tea, casually dismissed the offer, and promptly changed the subject. "I think it is so funny how you call John Ross' family the 'other Ewings'."

"Those who don't know us well, mix up our two families," Rebecca complained, revealing her irritation with being thought of as John Ross' wife, or worse, confused with her husband's long-time girlfriend. Upon overhearing Elena referred to as "Mrs. Ewing," a former high school acquaintance once commented how everyone knew she and Christopher would get married one day. Rebecca wanted to spit on her.

"People ask me how John Ross' surgery went, or tell me that Seth looks just like his daddy. I'm constantly saying, 'That's the other Ewings.' The only one who never confuses us is Dwayne, our mailman. We have the same address with one big mailbox—odd, I know, but the entire family living within a few hundred yards is odd, too. Even with that, Dwayne gets it right every time. All of my family's mail is always on one side of the divider and theirs on the other."

Walking up behind his wife, Christopher softly put his hand on her shoulder. "Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise," he interrupted, smiling down at her.

Happy to see him, she took a hold of his hand. "Hi Honey, what are you doing all the way out here in the middle of the day?"

"Late lunch meeting. How 'bout you two?"

"We played tennis earlier, and now we're talking about the silent auction, our ski week, how you evicted me from my own home," she teased.

Christopher rolled his eyes. "We have a much nicer home now, built exactly to your specifications."

She smiled at him warmly. "Yes, we do. Thank you, Sweetheart."

When he returned the smile, she reminded him not to be late for dinner. After giving her hand an affectionate little squeeze and assuring her he would be home on time, he walked off to the conference room.

"You definitely snagged yourself a keeper," Lacey affirmed, watching Rebecca eye her husband until he was no longer in view. "Yes, he is," Rebecca acknowledged. "Yes, he is."

Copyright 2012 tbimh

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	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Right Thing, but for Whom?

Evening rush hour was a mess, which is one reason Christopher never left work this early, but he promised Rebecca he would be home before six. During the meeting, he shoved their brief conversation to the back of his mind, but the quiet in his car, brought it all to the surface. Christopher wondered how they ever reached the point where they could now joke about him giving the house to John Ross. For months on end, the tension between them was thick and the arguments frequent, but the first one was the worst.

Several years later, he was still embarrassed for creating that fiasco. There were a myriad of ways to have handled the situation and arrived at the same outcome without causing a rift-chasm might be a better term-in his marriage. In his mind, however, discussing it with Rebecca beforehand was not an option as she often had the ability to change his mind. He needed to give the house to John Ross to relieve himself of the guilt that was eating him up inside. It worked for the growing-up-on-the-ranch guilt. The Elena guilt was irrevocable. His relationship with her could end, but in 50 years, he would still feel the shame as strongly as he did every time he left her.

Nothing could make up for Elena's unfaithfulness, he knew that, but Christopher now had the ability to undo a wrong from childhood. Even though he was not the one to inflict the damage, he was the only one in a position to heal it.

When Sue Ellen spitefully took John Ross away from his father, she put into motion a series of events that would splinter two cousins who should have been as close as brothers. Those two boys grew up apart from and resentful of each other. In John Ross' eyes, he lost more than just a house; he lost his supposed birthright to his adopted cousin, and would spend the rest of his life punishing Christopher for it. One did not need a PhD. to figure out why one of Dallas' most desirable bachelors, only wanted one girl—his cousin's.

The combination of enmeshment and antagonism was difficult to understand if one did not grow up in such an environment. Having never stepped foot on Southfork until 3 weeks before their wedding, Rebecca did not understand the complicated relationship he shared with John Ross. Hell, he did not fully understand it himself. What he was very sure of, however, was that his cousin's children had to grow up in the original house if the 5 younger Ewings had any chance of not repeating family history. It was obvious to him, but not so much so for his wife.

...

"It's just a house, Becca," he stated calmly, as he would try to do throughout their discussion.

"No, it isn't," she argued. "It's your family home. It's where you grew up. Where you have always said you wanted Robbie and Ashlyn to grow up."

"They have and will continue to, just not in this house."

"Why not in this house? What is this all about? Why are you even considering giving away our home?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. As long as you have known me, you have known the guilt I carry because I grew up here and he didn't, and that I wished there was a way to rectify that," he explained.

"His _parents_ sent him off to boarding school, not you!" she declared.

"That doesn't ease my conscience."

After a dozen more explanations as to why this was an unreasonable demand went ignored, Rebecca was at a loss. Only his father could talk sense into Christopher when he was being ridiculously obstinate, but Bobby was now incapable of doing so. Hoping to make some headway, she tried using him as leverage. "If your father was aware of what you were thinking, he would never allow it."

"But he isn't."

"Anne does."

Christopher scoffed. "She doesn't get a say."

"Apparently, neither do I!"

The comment hit a little too close to home. It was wrong not to discuss this issue with his wife, and he was acting like a spoiled child insisting on having his own way without further discussion. Christopher was well aware of that, he just did not want to be called out on the carpet for it. Resorting to his usual tactic when he wanted to shut down a conversation, he raised his voice.

"Rebecca, it's a house and I don't want to live in it anymore, and I'm not going to!"

"Our renters on Quail Ridge just signed the lease for a year. Are you kicking them out of their home, too?" she caustically questioned him.

Moving back into that house never entered his mind. It was beautiful and he enjoyed living there, but Southfork was his home; it always was and always would be. "No, we're not moving back there. We can build a house here—there are a couple of hundred acres…"

"Then why can't _he_ build a house here?" she countered.

"It's not the same for John Ross and you know it." As he walked away from her, he sarcastically added, "As much as you complain about the plumbing and floor plan, I'd think you'd be happy."

Finally realizing he had gone about this the wrong way, he took a moment to reorganize his thoughts. Attempting to make it sound as if he was doing this _for_ her, an approach he foolishly had not started with, he took his wife's hands in his. "Sweetheart, now you will be able to build your dream house with all the features you desire—a butler's pantry, more bedrooms and baths then we have people, a closet the size of our first apartment—whatever you want."

She pulled away from him while announcing she already had everything she wanted on Quail Ridge. "I love that house, and I miss having neighbors. If you insist on kicking us out of our home here, why can't we go back there?"

"Because I don't want to leave here."

When Rebecca glared at him, panic set in. _Oh, shit! Did I just say here or her_? Christopher swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.

"What do you mean you don't want to leave here?"

_Did she say here or her_? "I…I…" he stammered.

"Then why give the place away? You're not making any sense!"

Relieved, he matter-of-factly explained why it made sense to him. "I want the kids to grow up here on the ranch, but I can't live here anymore. As long as my father owned it and we were here only to be closer to him, it was fine. Now it's a burden I can't shake. Becca, you've always known I would make this right if, and when, I could."

Something in his tone made her speculate what suddenly brought this on. "Have you already talked to John Ross?" she asked suspiciously. When her husband looked away, Rebecca had her answer, and that answer made her very mad. She kept her voice low as she addressed him. "You son of a bitch. You sold my house out from under me. No, you gave away my house out from under me."

"He's my cousin," Christopher calmly rationalized.

"And I'm your wife!"

"Before we moved in here, even you said that it was unfortunate John Ross would never call Southfork home," he reminded her. "Now he can. We need to do the right thing, Becca. We need to do this for him."

Rebecca walked to the other side of the kitchen, as she needed more than just a counter top between the two of them. That slab of granite was not so wide that she could not reach out and slap that bastard, as she was tempted.

"And the 'right thing' for John Ross to do is thank you graciously, and then turn down your offer, but we know that's never going to happen. Your cousin wouldn't know the 'right thing' to do if he poured it out of a bottle of bourbon," she charged. "Damn it, Chris! Why are we the ones who always have to do the 'right thing?' God knows, neither of them ever has."

He rolled his eyes. "Get off your high horse, Rebecca."

"It's true. We have a family vacation planned for months, and then they leave town without notice, leaving you to take care of the company."

"Elena's uncle died!"

"Your cousin screws up a deal, _you_ have to find someone to clean it up. The SEC shows up out of nowhere with questions, but does your CFO meet with them? No, _you_ do."

"She was home with a five week old," he asserted, getting aggravated that she was bringing up incidents from long ago, and then taking them out of context. His wife was also conveniently forgetting that John Ross' family made many accommodations to indulge her constant need to travel abroad.

"A rig springs a leak; _you_ drop everything and head for the gulf while they go to Suzannah's dance recital. There was nothing for you to do down there. You don't know the first thing about _oil_ rigs."

That damned gulf trip was a hot button issue for them, and she knew it. It was several years ago, he had explained a million times why he was the one who had to go, and it took less than 72 hours, but she would not let it die. With its' introduction into the argument, Christopher ceased being annoyed and became angry.

"I know who to bring in to keep our company off the front page of the paper! Our rig was gushing oil, the water was black, there were dead birds everywhere! You can't just send PR people down there without…." He threw up his arms. "I'm not explaining this to you all over again!" he announced as he walked away from her. Stopping at the hallway, he turned back to facetiously ask, "Do you _ever_ stop bitching?"

"Maybe I bitch because you're constantly volunteering to take off for meetings that an errand boy could handle," she accused her husband.

After noting to her that they were spending Saturday morning rehashing an argument from years before, he could not help himself from asking, "Could you blame me?"

"You bastard!" she yelled. "I…"

"Mom, Dad?" A young voice interrupted.

"What?" They simultaneously snapped at their son, quickly adding, "Can you not see we're talking?"

"I can hear you _talking_ all the way outside and my soccer team is going to be here in 15 minutes. We're playing here this morning," Robbie reminded his parents.

Christopher apologized to his son. Turning away, he informed them he needed to get some work done upstairs.

"Christopher," his wife called to him in that pseudo-sweet voice that grates on his nerves. He stopped, but did not turn around. "Aren't you going to tell your son not to get attached to the soccer field he created out back?"

The worry in Robbie's voice had his father concerned. He was so young, yet already anxiety-ridden, just as Christopher was as a young boy. "Why not? You said I could put it there. Is there something wrong with it?"

"No, son, everything is fine," his father assured him, giving him a smile and tousling his hair. "Go get ready for your teammates."

As much as he and Rebecca argued, they did not do so in front of friends. Bickering in front of their kids, extended family, housekeepers and ranch hands, was a different story. Witnessing their quarrels made others uncomfortable and their reputation for having them was embarrassing, but there were times when his wife's taunts left him unable to contain himself.

She had confided in him that she gets an "out of control" feeling that makes her crazy. Due to her awful childhood, Rebecca's ability to deal with her emotions was poor, as was her selection of coping mechanisms-spite, hostility and physical retaliation. The passive-aggressiveness was her way of regaining control, the need for which he completely understood. As her husband, he felt obligated to tolerate the behavior, as she was not trying to antagonize him, just trying not to feel powerless. Additionally, it was preferable to having her slap him or throw everything within her grasp.

Once Robbie was back outside, he glared at his wife from across the room. "What the hell is the matter with you? Why would you say that to him?"

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I thought I was doing _the right thing_," she mocked, feigning an apology.

That little dig and smug look of hers, inflamed an already heated argument. "You are a real bitch Rebecca!"

"Then we complement each other well because you are a total bastard!"

"Why must you…" a car horn cut him off as Robbie's first teammate pulled up to the house. Knowing he could not remain at home with her and be civil, Christopher headed for the gym. A few hours there should burn up the frustration brought on by her provocations and his guilty conscience.

...

Building their house took a good part of the year, with the friction lasting right up until the paint dried. Once they settled in, the excitement of living in their new home finally calmed her.

Elena immediately, and quite naturally, took to being the lady of the house. For Christmas that year, their California cousins came out for a visit with their families. All of the extended Ewing and Ramos members were invited to the ranch for an unforgettable Christmas Eve get together. John Ross' gleaming smile when he answered the door was all Christopher needed to be completely confident that he had done the right thing.

Seeing Elena so delighted with the ranch house filled with children, he knew it was worth the price he was paying at home for doing it.

...

The car horn from behind him snapped him out of his reverie. As he slowly drove toward home in the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the image of Elena that night came to his mind. She was sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree looking gorgeous in a red dress. Seth was in her lap clutching a new stuffed puppy, while she was helping Suzannah, Ashlyn, and their cousin's daughter put on the necklaces they had just unwrapped. Johnny, who was never far from his mother, came up behind her and kissed her on the head, and then ran to play with Robbie and their second cousins. When Christopher caught himself smiling at the memory, the all too familiar sense of shame washed over him. He turned on the radio to get her out of his head, but she was still smiling at him. _Damn it._

He never went home to Rebecca, with _her_ on his mind. She was a good wife who abided by their marriage vows, and deserved the same in return. Although he failed to reciprocate, he would give her the respect of not having another in his thoughts while she was by his side. It was a minute amount of consideration for the woman who took his name and shared his life, but he stood firm on giving her that.

A couple of miles on a treadmill and a scalding hot shower should clean his mind and body, making him fit to go home. As he turned his car around and headed to the gym, he called the house. After she greeted him sweetly, Christopher took a deep breath and braced himself for the well-deserved lashing he was about to receive. "Becca, Sweetheart, I'm so sorry, but I'm going to be late…"

Copyright 2012 tbimh

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	9. Chapter 9 Milestones

**Milestones  
**2031**  
**

Chapter 9

Walking into her office, Christopher was greeted with a smile as bright as the sunshine streaming through the glass wall behind her. Elena loved that when milestone events occurred, he always sought her out to talk privately, even if just for a few minutes. It was their own little celebration where they could be happy for and with each other in a way they could not when others were present.

"I can't believe our babies are going off to college," he started after closing the door behind him. "Doesn't it seem like yesterday they started nursery school?"

Elena gave a little laugh. "That's a day none of us will ever forget."

"Really. I still can't believe it took over 30 years for them to tell me. What was the big deal?" he posed, obviously still irritated. "I knew I was adopted. Why hide who gave birth to me?"

Elena shrugged her shoulders. She knew the Ewings her entire life and still did not understand the motives behind their many questionable actions.

"If it weren't for John Ross getting mad, I don't think Sue Ellen would have ever told us. She never even cared that it reduced **_you_** to tears, let alone what it did to Rebecca. Hell, she overheard you and me argue about it 6 months before that and didn't say a word."

Not wanting to add fuel to Christopher's ongoing fire for her mother-in-law, Elena tried to redirect the focus. "Why didn't your dad ever tell you Kristin was your biological mother?"

"Sue Ellen told him not to," he accusingly answered. More kindly, he added, "I never told him I thought Suzanna was my baby, so, I guess, he didn't think it mattered."

_What_ _were you thinking opening up that door_? Elena scolded herself. It had been so long since the subject arose, she forgot about paternity being the crux of the issue. Their girls looked so much alike, she bought Suzanna clothes in every hue but pink, as Rebecca had made that Ashlyn's signature color. Dresses, shoes, hair bows—the child was a walking Pepto-Bismal bottle at all times.

"Did Rebecca ever tell you exactly what happened when we went to pick them up on their first day?"

"Only that Heather thought the girls were the twins. She had Ashlyn's hair cut that afternoon and started lightening it with lemon juice." Christopher started to smile thinking about his daughter. "To this day, Lynnie is always doing something to her hair—highlighting, streaking, curling, straightening—it never ends." Elena found it sweet how Ashlyn had him wrapped around her little finger. Suzanna was Daddy's little girl, too, but John Ross was well aware when his daughter was using said status to get away with something. Christopher was clueless.

"It was terrible," Elena began to explain, looking past him. The sick feeling of that day returned for a moment, and she could hear, "No cry, Mama. No cry," in Suzanna's little girl voice. No longer could they dress them differently and sweep it under the rug; even others noticed how similar their two little girls looked.

"Heather was commenting how much the twins favored you. We both assumed she meant Robbie and Ashlyn until she said, 'I bet Chris treats them like little princesses.'" She shook her head remembering back. "Heather was horrified when she realized the mistake she made. Between her husband being stationed overseas and her Peace Corps work, she had barely kept up with her family, let alone high school classmates," Elena clarified. "Later that day, she called me and apologized profusely for mixing up the children, and for saying 'I always knew you and Christopher would get married' with Rebecca standing right there."

Christopher rolled his eyes and gave a sheepish smile. "Forgot about that part. No surprise she and Rebecca never became friends."

"No," Elena chuckled. "No surprise there."

Elena left out that Heather also confided in her, "Of all the guys in our class, Christopher was the last one I thought would end up with 'Barbie.'" Over the next 16 years, the two had become very close and Heather still commented on Rebecca's perfect hair, extensive wardrobe, bust size, and dream house—a living, breathing Barbie Doll.

Bringing the conversation full circle, Christopher was back to criticizing Sue Ellen. "But it took _that_ for your mother-in-law to allow the big secret to come out. Any normal person would be happy that their nephew was adopted by a coup…was adopted and had a great life after their sister passed away. Actually, normal people would have adopted their nephew themselves, but Sue Ellen and JR were never normal. But, I guess I shouldn't complain—I really dodged a bullet," he quipped. The two friends had a small laugh over the comment, before Christopher drifted off into the blue sky.

"My father said she was always distant with me due to the rivalry between her and my mother," he said aloud while reminiscing about Southfork when he was a little kid. Every morning there was a nice breakfast to start the day, and every evening, 3 generations sat down together for dinner. That was a given. It was the hours in between that made no two days alike. "There must have been fireworks in that house with those two women in their prime," he joked. "How many nut cases can one family have?"

It took all her strength, but Elena did not verbalize, "Apparently three," although on her tongue, nor did she allow her facial expression to change. It served no purpose except to provoke Christopher, and that was his needling wife's department. If after all of these years he did not want to recognize Rebecca was certifiable, nothing was going to open his eyes. Why argue with him?

"Ashlyn, who loves to pull out the old photo albums, will mention Kristin occasionally at family gatherings. I love watching Sue Ellen seethe when she does," he unashamedly admitted. "It's like she and her sister were in competition over something, some coveted prize they both wanted, but neither would ever have. I hope none of our kids ever feel that way about each other."

"They won't," Elena confidently assured him. "The four of us did a damn good job raising them without all of that rivalry crap. There will never be a reason for any of them to wage war because of Ewing history or status in the family. If there is, it will be of their own doing. We love all of them too much to give them cause."

Without a word, she looked into his eyes and spoke to him. _We love our children more than life itself. That is why we have and always will, keep "us" separate from the rest of our life._

Christopher nodded in agreement. It was the only way to end a hundred year history of conflict within the Ewing clan. The two families had to be close-knit enough for the children to like each other, as well as love each other. One child or family did not need superiority over the other, as was engrained in Christopher and John Ross since childhood. Moreover, the adults had to rise above the fray. At times it was difficult, but they let bygones be bygones for the greater good of familial peace. Their success was bittersweet, but was success none the less.

After contemplating such drama for a bit, he asked if she was aware that he still did not know how Kristin died. Elena nodded, but Christopher continued anyway.

"My father was always evasive, claimed not to know the details, just that it was an accidental drug overdose. Even the newspaper articles from back then are sketchy." Angrily he added, "Sue Ellen's such a bitch that she won't say."

Realizing he needed to vent, Elena did not interject that Bobby knew everything and chose not to inform him of the dreadful details, and allowed him to continue.

"I don't know why she won't, it just makes me more curious. Secrecy breeds suspicion, and 5 decades later, I'm still suspicious."

Elena was stunned to hear those words come out of Christopher Ewing's mouth. The man's entire marriage was based on a lie; the mother of his children was a fictitious character. Her thoughts must have been written all over her face as he became visibly agitated.

"It's different," he snapped defensively, making her realize he was comparing the two situations for the first time.

As he struggled within himself to confirm the necessity of his secrecy versus the cruelty of Sue Ellen's, Christopher was overcome by an onslaught of conflicting feelings, and Elena watched as he forced himself to repress them. Gone were the days when he allowed his emotions to get the best of him. Anger, joy, irritability—he was an open book for all the world to see for 35 years. Nowadays, feelings were firmly in check, until they exploded. Although his kids and the occasional errant employee had witnessed that notorious temper flare-up, Elena was fairly confident she and Rebecca took the brunt of the outbursts.

"There was no reason for John Ross and me not to know we were first cousins biologically, except to perpetuate my second class status in the family," he spat out before walking behind her desk to the glass window.

The view of downtown Dallas was picture-perfect from her office, but Christopher was not admiring it. Knowing him so well, there were times she felt like a voyeur staring right into his mind and reading his thoughts. He was trying to put into words his explanation of why it had been vital to perpetuate the lies that should have ended his union with Rebecca, not cemented their marital bond.

Moreover, the momentary confusion in his eyes gave away he was thinking about his wife in the reality he suppressed decades before, in hopes of it never returning. Pamela Rebecca Barnes, lying, conniving monster who inserted herself in his life, coaxed him from his shell of heartache and seduced him. All the while knowing she caused the heartache, and her feminine wiles were not conceived of love, but of an effort to create want and build trust, just to steal from him then walk away, leaving him devastated in her wake. The only creature more diabolical, was her psychopathic father who gave the orders.

It was apparent Christopher had not seen _that_ woman in years. In his world, "The Mrs." truly was Rebecca Sutter Ewing, the good wife created out of thin air to replace the monster. How could a man so bright, purposefully trick himself into believing something so hideous was beautiful inside? What made him take worthless garbage and perceive it worthy of affection from him and his children? Why force those impressionable babes to beholden a soulless figure and declare to them it is love? That hypocrisy infuriated her about him.

The vindictive streak in Elena wanted to force him to look at Medusa, but her heart wanted him to remain in the fantasy, as even a glimpse would destroy him. Her love's blank stare and continuous tapping on the glass worried her, as those were some of the telltale signs he was becoming nervous. Not the fleeting feel of butterflies in your stomach that most experience. What he endured changed him into a different person and tormented him to no end. Her concern tempered her fury.

_Don't do this to yourself, Christopher, _she pleaded silently._ Don't open Pandora's box. What's done is done._

During the short time they were re-engaged, Christopher learned the identity of that despicable whore. So horrified by what he had done, it made him physically ill, throwing up for days. She stayed with him wanting to comfort him while the painful spasms racked his body, but he wanted to suffer. It was his warped way of cleansing his body of the disgust he felt inside. He sat on the floor shaking as if he were freezing, and he yelled, cried, swore at God and everyone else. He had cursed Pam and his love/hate for her a thousand times before, but that time he could not find words vulgar enough to throw at her or Rebecca or himself.

His mother had held him in her arms, kissed him and soothed him out of an innate motherly love. The depravity of a woman only one step removed from her doing those same things—holding, kissing, caressing—out of a sexual passion, was sickening to him. Rebecca had some of the same DNA as any baby Pam would have had, as a sister to him would have had, as his mother **_did_** have. Yet he had desired such a woman and layed with her. Elena remembered his look of anguish from long ago, as he whispered those words that would seal his fate of a lifetime of self-denigration, and Elena's of determination to never absolve the Devil he married for poisoning his soul. "It's sinful."

Finding a sudden interest in the hardbacks in her bookcase, Christopher's fingers trailed down their spines. He must have felt a desperate need for her to believe in his assertion that the years of lies and secrets were imperative and was defending his decision, but being so emotional and soft-spoken, it came out more like a confession.

"I just couldn't. I could not allow that vile man to be a part of our life; I could not let it all come out. They were innocence born of hatred and evil and…it was not _their_ cross to bear."

Turning toward her, his dry eyes made contact with her tear-filled and bloodshot ones. Hiding his vulnerabilities from the world Elena understood, but his insistence on wearing that stoic mask in her presence was heart-wrenching.

When he finally spoke again, exposing why it was essential he stay with lies and deceit, rather than leave with truth and honesty, his voice remained quiet.

"I loved them, but _they needed_ _her_…they needed her to have a second chance…they needed her to be who she _is_, not who she was. They _needed_ their mother to be forgiven."

Elena loved this man. Not in spite of his misguided actions, but because he committed himself to them out of a love so pure. She would do anything to take away the pain in his heart, a heart made of love and compassion, yet burdened with guilt and remorse. There was no healing, however, only understanding.

Of course Christopher put his children and their mother before himself; that is what a good man does for his family. Giving a small smile, Elena nodded to acknowledge she finally understood he did what he had to do, then shed his tears for him.

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copyright 2013 tbimh


	10. Chapter 10 Forgive, Forget and Fabricate

**Forgive, Forget and Fabricate  
**Chapter 10

It was almost 7:00 and Christopher finally had what he had waited on for hours-the office to himself. Between his kids leaving for college in two days, and the conversation with Elena earlier, he needed alone time.

His daughter had him worried sick. Robbie would do fine and get along no matter where he was. Except for trying his parents' patience for the last two years, he was a great kid—smart, athletic, and even used to be nice. Ashlyn was equally terrific, but emotionally fragile. Others did not see it, but he and Rebecca did. Elena's depiction of John Ross, "If he ever breaks, he will shatter," often came back to him as it described his Lynnie, too. Maybe he and Elena were wrong, and both would come out of tragedy unscathed, but he could not take a chance with his little princess.

He and Rebecca tried to get her to go to a very small private school thinking it would provide a close-knit and less stressful environment, but Ashlyn was having none of that. "Daddy, I want to go to Texas, like you did, but I will take your advice that a smaller school would be better for me. But it doesn't matter how pretty the campus, how intimate the classes, or how many you tell me about, I am _not_ going to a women's college, so you can save your breath," she told him on two separate occasions, as he did not listen the first time. Brown was larger than he would have liked, but seemed like a good fit for her. Even so, it would be out of the question if Robbie was not just three hours up the road.

Christopher's anxiety was building, and he could not help but second-guess their decision. _If anything happens to her, if anyone makes her go through that hell you did, you will be to blame for letting her go_, he scolded himself. _She is sweet and naïve, and needs to be sheltered from such. You cannot protect her from so far away._

As much as it pained him, Christopher could not control his children's every move, saving them from heartache and harm. It would be hard to stop trying, however; he had been controlling their lives since before they were born. Every action taken, every decision made was to benefit them, even with whom he shared his life.

The original plan, putting his wife behind bars and having his fiancé adopt his children, fell through in the second trimester. Regardless of repeatedly telling Elena that he knew Suzanna was _his_ biological child, paternity was a moot point. Elena was in love with someone else, her husband, and before celebrating their second anniversary, a second child was on the way. Mrs. John Ross Ewing, III had no intention of leaving her marriage—not now, not ever. Christopher's heart broke all over again with the realization that his 20 year love affair with Elena was over. This time, for good. Case closed. In the spring of 2015, what options were left?

Keep the status quo of the twins living on the ranch with Rebecca, and him at his townhouse in Dallas? The only thing he hated more than leaving Southfork every night, was waking up knowing his babies were across town. Fight her in court? For what? Once he admitted to himself that his children needed their mother much more than they needed him, he certainly did not want Rebecca imprisoned, nor did he want sole custody. Walk away from his children as his mother had? That was as unfathomable as to ever again look at a picture of that bitch he called "Mom." Move back to the ranch and be Rebecca's roommate? Marriage being an arrangement void of romantic love was not a life lesson he wanted to pass on to his children. Being in love should be the foundation from which the vows of matrimony are made and kept. He had known such deep love. One day he wanted Robbie and Ashlyn to have such a bond with their spouse leading to a life-long fulfilling marriage. Being loving, committed, and considerate of your spouse, however, cannot be learned through lectures and books. It has to be witnessed.

As he watched his children growing older, Christopher deliberated on how to rectify the chaotic situation. Ashlyn and Robbie were already crawling and he still did not know his role in their life. When they finally walked, he questioned if starting over with his wife was possible. Listening to them babble, just on the cusp of saying, "Da Da," he debated if the unconditional love he felt for them, was enough to sustain his marriage to their mother. His frustration grew with such questions. Love and family should be assumed at this point. One is not supposed to have to work to create the basics, but a few months shy of the twins' second birthday, he contemplated doing such.

...

Still deep in thought after a long ride, Christopher put away the saddle continuing to consider and dismiss the few options open to him. _I won't leave them and they can't leave her_. "Damn it!" he cursed out loud, startling one of the horses in the stable. There was only one answer left. He and Rebecca had to turn this farce of a marriage into a real one—a husband and wife who loved each other, and together raised their children all under one roof.

_How the fuck are we supposed to do that? _he asked himself_. I still can't believe what she did. How could she be so devious, and how did I not see it? _

_The adoration-filled eyes, great body, and adventurous sex, blinded you to everything else, _he chastised himself, then rolled his eyes. _What guy would not have been? _

It didn't occur to Christopher to question her motives back then, but what about now? _Am I still so gullible to believe in her new-found love for me and all that is good, after knowing she can take a lie all the way to the altar? Can I ever get beyond this so that we are what our kids deserve—a loving couple?_

"I don't think I can, Rebecca," he whispered. "But I wish I could."

As much as he wanted to let go of the anger he held for his wife, Christopher did not envision it possible to ever again look at her and see something other than a fraud, for her to speak and him hear anything other than a lie. That doubt saddened him.

She loved their children so much, and they responded to her differently than anyone else. They did not just smile at her, their eyes lit up. When they were infants, no one could soothe them as she could. Copying her exact movements—how she held them, the way she rubbed their backs, the words she whispered—did not work. _She_ was soothing to them, not what she did.

Now toddlers, they followed her around babbling, and giggled when she played with them. Every day before their nap and bedtime, Rebecca sat both of them on her lap, wrapped her arms lovingly around them, and read aloud. Upon their birth, Rebecca found her calling. It was being a mother.

Even so, being a wife did not suit her. Being _his_ wife did not suit _him, _anyway. As much as he knew the time had come for him to move beyond their negative history and focus on the future, part of him did not want to let go of it, and allowed the anger possess him. There were times Rebecca was expressing her sorrow and tried to make amends for her past actions, yet he kept a tight grip on the bitterness and resentment, as if determined to never accept her acts of contrition as sincere. He knew he was stubborn, but never before realized he was hard-hearted. As the heat of anger at himself brewed within, the sweltering humidity in the barn became unbearable.

Christopher wandered toward the house. A springtime breeze swept in, and he stood still allowing it to cool his skin. As he watched the wind blow through the live oaks, something caught his ear. Approaching the back porch, he recognized the familiar voice singing an old Pretenders song.

"...Nothing you confess could make me love you less, I'll stand by you. I'll stand by you, won't let nobody hurt you, I'll stand by you…"

Rebecca was laying on the oversized porch swing with a pillow behind her head. There was no recording contract in her future, but the song had never sounded more beautiful, and for the first time in several years, Christopher found the singer beautiful, too.

Sleepily, Robbie and Ashlyn were snuggling to get as close to her as possible, when one of them reached out and stroked her cheek. It was a picture-perfect display of maternal love-his children being rocked to sleep with a song from their mother. Christopher was mesmerized.

Robbie and Ashlyn loved Rebecca, and it made him love her all over again.

It was by far the most difficult decision he ever made. There were a few major ones in his life: asking Rebecca to marry him while still having unresolved feelings for Elena, marrying her after learning he had not been jilted, starting his relationship with Elena all over again six years into marriage. As hard and life-changing as those were, deciding to forgive, forget and fabricate was paramount to them all. There were so many facts that had to be disregarded, hopes that had to be quashed, and unfulfilled expectations that had to be accepted, or at least endured.

Mature beyond her years, it has always been hard for him to second-guess his wife. She is always adamant about what she wants and why. She has a response for everything. When they discussed their future that night, and all the problems and issues that would arise, Rebecca's solutions shone light on the only answer. They were meant to stay together.

"You're my cousin!" he told her for the 100th time, not understanding why that was not sinking in.

"Not biologically," she rationalized.

"I have enough mommy issues without the world knowing I married my mother's _niece_!"

"We can leave that part out. No one has to know."

"Everyone I care about already knows."

"They'll be the only ones. We'll keep it in the family."

"Apparently we keep _everything_ in the family," he sarcastically retorted. "What about the rest of it? What about Tommy?"

Rebecca's panicked expression matched the tone in her voice. "You swore you would never tell anyone that I..."

He took her hands in his. "And I won't. I will take it to my grave," he assured her, and he did. "But where do we explain he is if he's not dead? Or even who he is."

With sarcasm, Christopher parodied a response to such a question. "'Oh him? The guy we introduced at our wedding as the brother of bride? He's just the guy my wife married so she could more easily steal his sister's identity. But don't worry, they had a quickie divorce while in China, so ours is legit. And now he's dead, so it doesn't matter.' We can't say that, so what are we going to say happened to him?"

"I don't know."

"I don't either. We can't pull this off without the world knowing what happened, without our kids growing up as the twins whose father married his estranged mother's con-artist niece after she knowingly seduced him to settle a family vendetta. We can't do that to them, Rebecca. I'm sorry. We can't…."

"Christopher, don't say it! Please don't say it. I told you everything, left out nothing from my earliest memory until now, just as you asked. I'm your wife, I love you. I don't want either of those things to change—not ever. Whatever you want me to say, I'll say. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do. Please," she pleaded.

"I will not have that man in our lives."

"He won't do anything, I promise. I'll tell Daddy that he cannot interfere and cannot continue this fued; that it ends now, that he can't see the babies until it does. That will stop him, I swear."

"It's not enough."

With a bit of a whine, his wife started to dispute him. "Christopher…"

He quickly cut her off. "I don't want my children to even know such depravity exists, let alone be exposed to those who embrace and disseminate it."

"He's sick. I'll make sure he gets help."

"There is no help for evil," he dryly responded.

"Don't say that about him. There are treatment centers that can help, that will bring back the father I used to have."

"I know you believe he went crazy, but I don't."

"My mom didn't do anything."

With a look of disgust, he challenged Rebecca's view of her mother. "But she knew everything, and let you do it, didn't even try to stop you! Did she think it was acceptable to teach her daughter to sleep with some guy to get something out of him? You'd think she would not want you to follow in her footsteps, but she opened the door for you to do it."

"I won't let them come here; the kids and I will always go to them. You will never have to see them again, I swear to God, Chris, never," she implored, tears now streaming down her face.

He shook his head.

Desperation overtook her. "Then we won't tell anyone my mom and dad are the grandparents, not even the kids if that's what you want. He's your uncle, so it would be normal for him to be a part of the family. And my mom is kind of long-time family friend."

"No. I don't want them as part of this family," he declared. "It was bad enough he wanted to destroy me, his own nephew, and the rest of his sister's family. That's appalling in and of itself. But he pimped out his daughter to do it? He had you seduce your own cousin? That's sick! We had never met, but that does not change that you're…"

Closing his eyes, Christopher turned away from her. He had thought it a million times, but never verbalized the words, those unspeakable words. It was not her fault who she was, but that did not change who she was, either.

"…that you are my mother's blood, and I…we…it's wrong, Rebecca." Now, more upset than angry, he looked back at her with wet eyes. "Nothing so vial will be in contact with my family—not me, not my children, not my wife."

"Chris, they're the only family I have."

"Not anymore they're not. You have another family now, if you want us."

Rebecca cried herself to sleep that night. The next day she agreed to break all ties with her parents, and everyone else from her past who knew her as Pamela Rebecca Barnes, which was everyone she had ever known.

He had spent his years on earth never having matured much beyond that of a 21-year-old, but knowing that one day he wanted to be the man his father was. Bobby had integrity, was trustworthy, reliable, and provided well-a good man who worked hard and took care of his family. It was long overdue, but Christopher now wanted to be that man. With just one little piece of history erased, he could be that man.

It seemed so easy, so logical at the time. It was just one little lie-not even a real lie as it was by omission. They just would not tell anyone his wife was also his first cousin.

After they put Robbie and Ashlyn down for the night, his wife sat alone, as she had spent most of the day. Even if not in-love with her, Christopher did indeed love her, and did not like that he and his demands were the cause of her despair. On the other hand, the children sleeping upstairs needed to be protected, and it was his responsibility to protect them. Despite his actions since their conception, it was time to step-up and be the father they needed, and the husband their mother deserved. Losing her parents would hurt, but she could not expose herself to poison and risk it touching their children. As their mother, she had to put them first. As their father and her husband, he had to make her see that.

Rebecca did not look up when he entered the living room although he knew she heard him. After pulling a chair up close to hers, Christopher took her hands in his and looked into her sad eyes. If it were just him, she could have a normal relationship with them, but he could not let their babies have a convoluted family tree with sick and depraved relatives. After tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear, he repeated the words he heard her say so many times throughout their first two years together.

"You were born Rebecca Sutter in Des Moines, Iowa. You have one brother. Your parents died in a plane crash when you were only twelve…"

Together, they re-created her past. A past that did not involve a billionaire father who may or may not be insane, or a scheme to bring down a rival family, or a mother who slept with two of his three uncles. It was a nice family that suffered a tragedy, leaving her and Tommy raised by a much older and quite affluent aunt, who passed away while Rebecca was in law school. When their house burned to the ground later that year and they lost everything, she and her brother went half way around the world to start over. And the rest is history, their history, minus them being first cousins, and without her murdering her first husband, and no mention of him leaving her and becoming re-engaged to "Aunt Elena," as their children would one day call her.

Along with this lying, however, came a clause of honesty in all other ways. "If you ever lie to me again about anything, I don't care how insignificant you think it is, I don't care if it's why you're running 10 minutes late, I will leave and take them with me."

They went to see her parents so Rebecca could say good-bye, and he could explain how it was going to be from then on. Neither believed she would follow through with such a scheme, and said they would not stay away from their daughter or their grandchildren.

Glaring at his uncle, Christopher used his final threat, a lie that was held over her parents' heads. "If you cause trouble for us, if you ever attempt to contact Rebecca or the twins, we will tell the world how you molested her when she was a teenager, and how you, Afton, knew all about it, but did nothing because you did not want those child support payments to stop, those _shamefully_ high payments."

"That's disgusting!" Cliff and Afton screamed out in horror with facial expressions matching their sentiment.

"Yes, it is, as are both of you."

They looked to their daughter as if expecting her to dispute what he was saying. Although clearly upset, she gave them nothing, keeping her head buried in Christopher's shoulder as his arm softly held her close.

That was the last time he ever saw them. As the relationship between he and his wife grew more emotionally intimate, he learned Rebecca's motivation to devote herself to the bizarre scam to bring down the Ewings. Having a self-absorbed mother whose energies were constantly used to prowl for the next wealthy man to support her, Rebecca was driven by finally receiving the love and approval of her father. Since learning what deplorable parents they were, Christopher hated Cliff and Afton even more now.

…

It was quite late when he arrived home. Quietly, Christopher crept through their home locking doors, and turning on lights, so Ashlyn and Robbie did not come home to a darkened house. Rebecca was sleeping when he slipped between the silk sheets next to her. The window treatments were open allowing the light of the moon to create a soft glow over their bedroom. In remaining married, they gave Robbie and Ashlyn the normal—_intact, anyway_, Christopher quipped to himself—family he and Rebecca wanted for them. But did it give Rebecca what she wanted? If she knew then how it would turn out, would she still have pleaded with him to stay? What if she knew _everything_, would she do it all over again?

Laying on his side, Christopher mulled over such questions as he stared down at his pretty wife.

_Becca, I really do love you, and am thankful we managed to make it work. We gave our kids what neither of us had growing up—both parents every single day—and I will never regret that. Giving them the "ideal" childhood, however, gave you a much less than ideal marriage, and I will forever regret that. If you want to leave now that Ashlyn and Robbie are grown, I would not blame you, nor would I hold you to the post-nuptial agreement you signed upon our reconciliation. _

_Believe it or not, I love you and hate when you're in pain, especially when I am the cause. What Elena and I have is not because I feel you should be punished, or don't think you are a good wife. It is not a reflection on you at all. It just is what it is. The secrecy is not so I can continue to see her or to avoid divorce and all the ugliness that comes with it, it's so you are not hurt and humiliated by your incredibly selfish husband._

Wrapping his arm around her, Christopher drew his chest to her back, feeling the warmth of her body through her lacy nightgown. Gently, he swept her hair from her face, and rested his cheek close to hers. "I'm sorry, Becca, so sorry," he whispered.

As he drifted off to sleep, what became "their" song, was on his lips. "I'll stand by you, won't let nobody hurt you, I'll stand by you…"

Oh, why you look so sad?  
Tears are in your eyes, come on and talk to me, now  
Don't be ashamed to cry  
Let me see you through, 'cause I've seen the dark side, too.  
When the night falls on you, you don't know what to do.  
Nothing you confess could make me love you less  
I'll stand by you  
I'll stand by you, won't let nobody hurt you, I'll stand by you

So, if you're mad, get mad  
Don't hold it all inside, come and talk to me, now  
And hey, what you got to hide?  
I get angry, too, well, I'm a lot like you.  
When you're standing at the crossroads and don't know which path to choose.  
Let me come along, 'cause even if you're wrong,  
I'll stand by you.  
I'll stand by you, won't let nobody hurt you, I'll stand by you

Take me in into your darkest hour, and I'll never desert you  
And when the night falls on you, baby  
You're feeling all alone,  
You won't be on your own  
I'll stand by you


	11. Chapter 11

**The Best Years**  
Chapter 11

Although quite tired, Rebecca only dozed, as she never slept soundly until Christopher and the kids were home safely. Even over the phone, she could tell that something was bothering her husband. She assumed it was about the twins going off to college on Sunday, but their babies growing up brought to light many other issues. Their love for Ashlyn and Robbie was the sun in which her's and Christopher's world revolved, and that sun was moving on to another galaxy. It would still be out there somewhere, but not close enough to shine light on their parents' daily lives. _They don't need us anymore, Christopher, and they certainly don't need us together. Are you going to leave me now? _

Rebecca knew staying with her was not Christopher's first choice, and he would not be with her now had Elena not left him twice. Believing he was jilted by his first love, he was heartbroken. After moving eight thousand miles from everything he had ever known, Rebecca was standing there with open arms, and he fell right into them, just as she had planned. A few years later, after promising herself to him again, Elena left him again. Once his fury and self-destruction diminished, Rebecca was still standing there, and this time his son and daughter were in those open arms. Cautiously, he allowed her to hold him and eventually returned her embrace, just as she had hoped.

She remembered back 16 years ago when she told Christopher how excited she was that he was "willing to give the marriage another try." He gave the same look he had many times since then when annoyed she did not understand him. "This isn't a _job_, Rebecca. We're not going to re-evaluate after a 6-month trial period. This is _marriage_." Quickly, his eyes softened a bit and he lightly stroked her cheek. "We have a family, we _are_ a family. We'll make it work." That declaration gave her a sense of security that lasted until about a year ago. Nothing changed between them, but she started to wonder if what they had together was enough to sustain their relationship without the common bond of their children.

Even with the rocky start, these years raising their children had been the best of her life. She loved being "Mom" to a son and daughter she adored, and having a supportive spouse whose goals and parenting were similar to hers.

Although her husband was very angry and depressed that first year, when the twins were present, Christopher's eyes lit up and he would get the cutest smile. It was similar to how he used to respond to her, but that ended just weeks into their marriage when that lousy cousin of his tried to blackmail her. Except for knocking up Elena, the man had done nothing but cause problems, in Rebecca's opinion.

Much more observant and much less trusting than Christopher, John Ross squared her up quickly. For his own selfish reasons, he wanted her to persuade a clean and sober addict to use again, and photograph him doing so. If that was not bad enough, he believed she was up to no good with Christopher, and did not even care. "With family members like that, who needs enemies?" she muttered on many occasions referring to the "other Ewings." _And the Ewings claim to be so morally superior to the Barnes. Oh, please! _

John Ross was quite skillful at bringing in business-he was definitely the people person in the operation-and had a weird sixth sense for finding oil, but Rebecca was skeptical if the benefits he brought to Ewing Energies outweighed the detriments. Whenever the company had financial issues or bad press, she assumed one of his backroom schemes brought it on. She did not know for sure, as years before, Christopher stopped confiding in her much of his frustration toward his cousin. Apparently, once too often she passed along stories to friends that John Ross' motives were suspect, and how his moral compass swayed easily when the situation would benefit him, or damage those whom he felt had hurt his loved ones.

If she allowed herself to dwell on her own actions in similar situations, Rebecca started to draw the conclusion that she was a female John Ross, so she usually put such thoughts out of her mind.

Alone in her big beautiful home staring at the million twinkling stars outside the bedroom windows, however, Rebecca's mind started to wander. She wondered if she would share John Ross' need for control and proclivity for retaliation had she not grown up so desperate for fatherly affection that when _her_ moral compass pointed her down a path of vengeance and deceit, she mistook it for approval and admiration. Sadly, that neglected feeling was such a large part of her, she could not imagine herself without seeking the security of a man who would always take care of her, love her, and never leave her. Until satiated, such longings dictated her actions.

But, what if Christopher had not returned and filled those needs, what would her life be today? What if paternity was not Elena's only criteria for whom to marry? When not pitying her cousin-in-law for finding love in a marriage in which neither looked too closely at the other, Rebecca was annoyed by Elena's tendency to check her brain at the door when leaving the office. Had she allowed her head instead of her hormones to make the decision, surely the best man would have won. Rebecca scoffed at the illogicality. _Even Elena could not be so stupid as to compare the Ewing cousins in terms of husband material, and not choose Christopher._

A younger woman unable to see further down the road than nights on the town and a lavish wedding, would certainly go for John Ross. That devilish grin, easygoing nature and reputation for wild sex, put him on Dallas' Most Eligible Bachelors list more than once. Being the offspring of a favorite son of Texas, did not hurt either. Mix that with money, and what twenty-something could resist?

Moody, fixated on science, and stuck to Elena like glue, who would have considered Christopher a great catch? He was attractive, had rock hard biceps and abs, and when not ticked-off at something, could be quite charming, but he rarely left Elena's side. A girl would have been foolish to waste her time.

When she left her fiancé for his cousin, however, Elena was no girl. She was an educated 33-year-old small business owner who allowed the instincts of a cavewoman to tell her she needed to love the man with whom she had created life. _Poor sap,_ Rebecca thought, her lips curving into a smirk. _Her_ _loss was my gain though_.

Elena's idiocy gave Christopher an opportunity to see Rebecca as someone other than "the bitch who derailed my life." That look made him realize his wife married him for love, not retribution. After all of the ugliness that had transpired between them, he finally acknowledged he had fallen in love with the _real_ Rebecca, not the lost young woman he first met on the train. _How did you find me behind that façade of the meek swooning girl I thought I had to be for you to trust me? How did you pull at heartstrings I didn't even know I possessed?_

Christopher also gained from Elena's impulsiveness, Rebecca concluded. He and Elena would have started out in their Pollyanna world filled with rainbows and smiley faces, but Ewing Energies would not be a multi-million dollar company with him in the corner office. _John Ross and I would have made sure of that!_

They would have taken over the world by now; the company would have just been the start. Bringing out the worst in each other, she and John Ross would have built up Ewing Energies only to rip it away from its' other founders. Leaving Christopher and Elena with little financial means, she would have taken the twins away, too. That would have been the last straw; it would have destroyed him. Not even Elena's love and considerable fertility would give him "happily ever after" without Ashlyn and Robbie in his home.

The twins would not be the self-assured and full-of-life young adults they were today, but Rebecca doubted she would have been able to see through her vengeance to recognize that, or the role she played. With such a realization about herself, she felt the hot flush of shame on her cheeks and the sting of sorrow in her eyes.

Back then, she would have found pleasure in destroying Christopher._ Why did I get such a charge out of luring men into my web, then watch them struggle to free themselves? Was it the conquest that made it so gratifying? Or was the triumph in masterfully playing the puppeteer to those around me? Tommy, Christopher, even my father, none of them made a move that I had not carefully orchestrated, or at least anticipated_. Tears stained the silk sheets she had pulled around herself like a safe cocoon. _I am not that person anymore. I'm not perfect, but I am __**not**__ malicious, _she told herself.

Not even if he left her tomorrow, would she want to hurt Christopher like that. In their love, she found acceptance and forgiveness for the first time in her life. She forgave for the first time, too. The scorn that ran through her veins, drained from her when she absolved the transgressions of her husband, her father, and eventually, herself. No longer did she see the world through the eyes of an insecure, needy young woman who would use and be used to gain some twisted form of happiness. Looking at life from the perspective of a self-confident woman who was part of a couple raising a family, made her finally realize her importance, and how her words and actions affected others, especially her children. Nowadays, happiness came from the little things-Ashlyn confiding in her or Robbie hugging her even when his friends were around. _I hope I was a good mother to you two. It's hard to emulate something you never saw, but I certainly tried. _

Both she and Christopher knew being a good parent was paramount to all other roles they played, and strived to be such. At first, she worried about her ability to be the nurturing mother she wished Afton had been, but there was never a doubt in her mind that Christopher would be a wonderful father, and he did not disappoint. Although he had hardly ever been around kids, these fatherly instincts to care for and protect emerged as he watched their arrival into the world.

Having they both grew up quite affluently with one parent while feeling neglected by the other, they had similar beliefs in parenting. They knew that extreme wealth could create demanding, selfish, egocentric children who grew into demanding, selfish, egocentric adults. They wanted Robbie and Ashlyn to be happy, but to be so while also being respectful, productive, caring and honest. The rules and consequences in their home were more strict than in those of their contemporaries, but they supported each other when the kids told them they were mean, and others had the gall to declare the punishments too harsh.

Their own childhoods made them realize the importance of children feeling cared for and supported by _both_ of their parents. They had different ways of doing so, but each expressed their love and provided encouragement to their son and daughter.

Christopher and she were both driven with Type A personalities, but Rebecca also took on the traits of her role models-a calculating mother and win-at-all-costs father. Christopher brought out a warmth in her no one else ever had, and she brought out a side of him that Elena never would have—competitive and authoritative. Elena never would have appreciated such qualities and their necessity in big business. Maybe in academia being bright is enough, so it is acceptable to be compliant and do the bidding of others, but not in the real world. One can be reasonable and honest without being a pushover.

Rebecca had always felt badly for Bobby. He was such a nice guy, but JR took advantage of that and walked all over him right up until the end. She would not allow her husband to be a doormat for John Ross or anyone else, and made it her mission to be sure history did **_not_** repeat itself with the next two generations. Slyly, she compelled Christopher to parlay that short fuse of his, into eager, but controlled, competitiveness, and transform his whiny victimized attitude into one of stoic authority.

Rebecca smiled. Looking at it like that, it all did work out for the best, even for John Ross and Elena, not that their happiness would have had any bearing on her decisions. Christopher thrived on being a good man in both his professional and personal life. Professionally, he was the CEO of a company that he, with some assistance from the other two, built from the ground up. Ewing Energies was well respected, lucrative, and philanthropic, but his personal life brought him the most joy. Even if Robbie was unable to recognize it at that point, Christopher was a great dad and a man who provided a life for his family of which most could not even dream. As a husband, he was kind, considerate, giving and loved his wife. Although it was no secret they had more than their share of quarrels, they also had many amazing times together—family vacations abroad, entertaining friends, and a damn good love life, too. _Will that be enough to keep you here with me? _

Headlights glided across the night sky. It was before 11:00, so she knew it was not Robbie and Ashlyn. If they returned before dawn, she would be surprised. She must have drifted off again, as she never heard her husband enter the house, but felt him slide into bed, and sensed him staring at her, as she often did when he came home late. His body pressed close always gave her a sense of peace and she drifted off again.

In her slumber, the words of her favorite song went through her mind. "I'll stand by you…"

Rebecca smiled._ I hope so, Christopher. I know I will_.

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